


A Certain Sort Of Loneliness

by APHPuffinChild



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Autistic Emil, Childhood Trauma, Depression, F/M, First Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Romantic Friendship, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Slow Burn, Trauma, Violence, goes between a lot of serious stuff to some more casual fluff stuff, mental health issues in daily life, sensory processing disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:22:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 30,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APHPuffinChild/pseuds/APHPuffinChild
Summary: Emil has never dealt well with change - it always made him feel like he was being left behind.Fic describing Emil's thoughts and feelings towards the changing dynamics in his family and the separation he begins to feel as he struggles with mental illness and his own emotion.Updates may be irregular at timesMay contain some writing that some readers may find triggering (depression, panic attacks, and various others)





	1. Change and Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Names:
> 
> Iceland - Emil Steilsson  
> Norway - Lukas Bondevik  
> Denmark - Mathias Køhler  
> Sweden - Berwald Oxenstierna  
> Finland - Tino Väinämöinen  
> Sealand - Peter Kirkland  
> Ladonia - Lars Oxenstierna

   Emil had always felt that he was different to the others. Whether it was in geographical terms or in his appearance he never quite fit in - they were all blonde and his hair was white, their eyes were all some shade of blue whilst his were purple, they were all strong and he...Felt he was not. 

  He was younger than all of them too - he hated that. He hated how they babied him, treated him like he wasn't old enough to take part in their conversations and discussions about more serious affairs or too immature to socialise with others. It was demeaning - to him - and yet he felt safe in that position, at ease in the simplicity and lack of responsibility of this 'role'. 

    He wanted change. He wanted the world to twist and turn the gears of time and let new and fresh wash over him and yet every time change came it was painful; he wanted change but he hated it. Although, perhaps feared was a better word - he feared the unknown  and that which he could not understand - there were things he could accept as they were and yet a slight alteration in his mental schedule without warning sent him in to a tense mood of delicate, fragile annoyance that could easily be set off in to verbal outbursts and sullen stares.

   He distanced himself usually - or rather he hid. He hid from the things he didn't want to encounter, didn't want to face and couldn't understand - or maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to understand. He was weak and yet he was strong - his mind was that of a child but simultaneously that of a scholar, a heart of immaturity and a soul of old. Polar opposites always crossed in his mind, ice and fire each blending and intertwining in to complicated concepts and irrational reactions - sometimes he felt that he simply shouldn't be around people anymore. Sometimes he didn't want to be around people, and sometimes he simply couldn't - after all: solitude was solace but loneliness was a curse that kept coming back to wreck his mind. 

   He hadn't seen anyone in a while now - he had been isolating himself again. In itself, he wanted to see someone, but there had been too many changes, too much shifting in the teptonic plates of his family dynamics that seemed to send what was mountains to his brothers soaring upwards and what was volcanoes to him, spewing fire in to his heart and earthquakes shuddering through his mind. 

   The first change hadn't been unexpected - when Tino and Berwald sat them all down at the table and showed them their rings it wasn't a revelation but more of a confirmation of the already expected. And yet this tiny shift bothered him - by sealing their relationship Emil felt that they had torn apart the scraps of a 'family' he had - the rings had created what seemed like walls around them - they had become separate from the others and though they were all still together there was an invisible difference that never quite allowed Emil to let it go.  
    
   It never got better - if anything the rift grew wider and deeper. The arrival of Peter - and then Lars - had only made things worse. His role had changed, since their arrival he was torn between two worlds - the familiarity and safety of his original family and the fear of this new role of an "older brother" or an "uncle".  
    
    He couldn't understand Lars or Peter - he was scared of them - being around them was agitating, every thing they said seemed too loud, too threatening, each of their actions too antagonistic for Emil to be around them for too long (let alone in one on one situations). He hated how it was simply seen as him being jealous - him being 'difficult' about the new members of the family - 'typical, childish behaviour' that his brothers brushed off as something too simple or near endearing. Maybe that was exactly what it was but it felt much deeper than that - simply put, Emil was terrified of losing his place. He didn't like having to look out for his two new brothers, he didn't like having to babysit or spend time with them, playing pointless games and taking part in their make believe. It scared him and being around them made him want to scream.  
     
   Slowly, everyone started to scare him - Mathias's laughter became too loud for him, Tino's constant talking started seeming like incessant, stressful noise, Berwald's silence was stifling and Lukas - even Lukas - bothered him to no end: each gentle touch felt like needles and even well-meaning words seemed like sugar-coated threats.  
   
     And so he hid. He hid in his room cocooned in to blankets and pillows, headphones clamped over his ears so that he wouldn't have to hear and he wouldn't have to think. He barely left - to eat and drink or even go to the toilet he would sneak out so that there was as little chance as possible of seeing them. At first, they knocked. They would wonder where he was, knock and ask if he wanted dinner, but like a blocked river their queries slowly flowed in to nothing and the knocking gradually lessened. Berwald was the first to give up - then, Tino. Peter and Lars never tried from the start - they were happy that he wasn't there, it would seem, he was out of their way. Mathias and Lukas were more patient: though they were greeted with silence each time they came back everyday, knocking for each meal, every event that came their way becoming more and more desperate each time.

    "Emil? I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Please... won't you come out of your room?" It wasn't the first time Lukas had said this, but today....his voice was different - heavier, more tired, the knocking was faint, weak, barely audible if it weren't for Emil's sensitivities.  
     "It's been ages Emil, won't you come out - even if it's just for a little while?" Mathias joined in this time, his voice was subdued, soft and gentle, careful to not make any mistake,  
      "Please-" Lukas's voice cracked slightly, shaky and raspy, "We're all worried - I'm worried...Please..."

      His pleas were followed by an agonising silence, seconds ticking away in what seemed like hours,  minutes trickling away till Emil heard shaky steps make their way down the corridor outside his door, fading away and Emil was overcome with the feeling that he had just made his final, biggest mistake.


	2. Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas worries and Mathias comforts - it's a usual thing, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as though my chapters are too short, but for now I can't really think of a way to seperate plot points any other way so bear with me please!

Lukas was sighing again. He had been doing that a lot lately, Mathias had noticed, and sighs never meant anything good - or at least not when they were ones like these: deep and shaky, ones that just sounded so, so tired that it made Mathias want to reach out and comfort him - and so that's exactly what he did.

"Hey." He slung his arms around Lukas, one arm round his waist and the other across his back. There had been protests at first, Mathias remembers, to little things like this but now - now especially - this sort of thing was welcome and Mathias felt Lukas relax and soften in his arms, fingers tracing along his chest in rhythmic, gentle strokes.

"What's up?" He asked, and he felt Lukas inhale his scent, drowning himself in it for a moment before quietly, quietly,

"Mathias," he breathed, pausing for a moment to piece his words together somehow, "I don't know what to do anymore." There wasn't much else to say really - it had all been said before, each quiet complaint and worry already shared and shown and yet Lukas found himself saying them anyway - he could only do this with Mathias - it was okay to complain, to let himself talk - he was safe with him, after all.

"School's starting again soon, I'm worried that Emil won't go - how are we supposed to explain that? What if he's being bullied and that's why he's hiding? What if he's not eating properly? He doesn't know about us and he could barely handle Tino and Berwald, let alone Peter and Lars - what if this makes it worse? What if...What if I was the one who hurt him in the first place? What if this is all my fault?"

For a while, silence followed his outburst, and all Mathias could do was slowly rub across Lukas's back, he looked down at him softly, and Lukas looked back up,

"It'll be okay, alright?" He combed through his hair lightly, " We'll get through this - all of us," Lukas had never been the positive one of the group - he was a realist at best and downright paranoid at worst, and Mathias was always going to have to be the optimistic one out of the two of them. But Mathias knew, as Lukas gave him a slight, weak smile, that as time went on his words were starting to lose effect - said too many times with too little done - Mathias knew, something had to happen.

But for now, for just a little while longer, Mathias allowed himself to relish in the warmth of having Lukas in his arms and returned to stroking his hair lightly as Lukas nestled closer, laying his head on Mathias's chest, all to the sounds of the radio in the back of the room, quiet notes of some soft symphony wafting through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I don't actually ship dennor much, I enjoy really intense queer-platonic relationships most of the time but for the sake of the plot I've had to go out of my comfort zone a little so I hope I managed to portray them well (I'm not very comfortable writing Mathias' point of view, I struggle to relate to him as a character because we are very different but I'm doing my best, hopefully this will help me improve my writing at least haha)


	3. Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When words and thought fails the static fills his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally managed to get over my writers block, which is a relief. I actually had most of this finished about a week ago but only just did the editing haha. Sorry for the long hiatus.

Sneaking in had become normal now, Emil noted, fingers quietly fumbling with his keys as he unlocked the front door, noiselessly entering the house and closing the door behind him once more. The corridor was dark, as was to be expected - it was late and everyone was asleep - or should be, at least.

Hurrying to get to his room, Emil crept up the stairs, wary of each painfully loud creak the old wood steps made as he made his way to-

Light. Emil froze, eyes fixating on the golden tones of light that spilt on to the carpet through the crack under Mathias' door. Anxiety began to bubble in his stomach, uncertainty swirling in his chest as he tried to swallow his fears away - this had happened before, it was fine. As long as he was quiet he would get past the door and in to his room where he would be safe, right? 

Taking a deep breath, Emil took a step forward, then another, then ano- the floorboards groaned under his weight, sirens beginning to scream and wail in his head as the door was flung open, Mathias stumbling out wide eyed and concerned, 

"Emil-" he breathed, relief washing over him as he took the boy in to his arms, feeling Emil stiffen as Mathias pulled him closer, breath hitching, arms frozen by his sides, 'Your shoes were gone and- I was so worried- its so late I thought...I thought you might not come back..oh my god Emil thank god you're safe-" Mathias gushed, half formed sentences pouring from his mouth in distorted paragraphs, each word emphasised by the slight cracks in his voice. Hesitantly, Emil found himself returning Mathias' embrace, barely managing to give the admittedly much larger man a pat of sorts as Mathias gripped ever tighter, as if scared that Emil would disappear all over again.

Emil found his legs weakening, overwhelmed by this unexpected wave of emotions that sent static blazing like fire in his mind,

"I've- I-I mean we- we've all been so, so worried...Please...Talk to us."

Agonising silence followed and Emil found himself counting each second as it dragged on, mouth glued shut in painful fear,

"...I'm sorry..." He whispered, and Mathias could do all but restrain a few shaky sobs from escaping his mouth as they both slowly sank to the floor. 

"Can you...Can you promise me that you won't lock yourself away anymore? Not completely of course, that would be too much but maybe just...if you feel okay to maybe come downstairs...even if it's just for five minutes...Please..."

His words drifted in to nothing, quiet desperation settling in as his breathing began to slow,

"I'll try.." Emil mumbled uncertainly, the swirling in his stomach intensifying as he did, "Could you...let me go now please?" He asked, waiting patiently as Mathias began to reluctantly untangle himself before making his way to the door, uncomfortable with Mathias' eyes watching him.

Silence.

"Emil..!" Emil turns to Mathias, confused, "Lukas and me... We're together now...You know that, right...?"

More silence. It's thick, and static begins to fill the void in Emil's head as his throat dries. His head feels empty - what to say? How to feel? He doesn't know.

He blinks. Once. Twice. He nods. Turns. Leaves. No thought. No thinking allowed. None at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will hopefully be more frequent from now on, my exams are almost over too, which helps. As always, thank you for reading and any and all criticism is always greatly appreciated!


	4. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil hates this.  
> It scares him.
> 
> Why are Lukas and Mathias together?
> 
> He wishes they weren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some very graphic descriptions of self harm in here so be careful if you're sensitive to this sort of content.
> 
> If you would like to read the chapter but don't feel comfortable reading about self harm in much detail, I am more than willing to post an edited version of the chapter that's still pretty self explanatory. If thats the case please post a comment requesting this and I'll post as soon as possible.

His head was whirling. Wordless thoughts crashing and colliding against his skull, shivers pushing through him as he took dizzy steps towards his bed.

He'd lost someone again. He was unimportant. Lukas didn't need him - he never had - it had just taken him this long to realise it.

Black clawed at the edges of his vision and Emil forced himself to focus on his hands, mumbling repetitive mantras to himself as he opened and closed his palms till the swirling in his stomach slowed and became distant and numb. 

He wasn't there anymore now. He was... someone, probably, but he certainly wasn't him.

He stared at the light, eyes burning slowly as he found himself too tired to even blink or look away from it, glaring white pounding at his head till he felt pulse-like throbbing against his temples.

Now. Now what? Now that. That. Yes. Now? Of course.

He didn't know who he was talking to. It didn't matter - he didn't need to. He didn't need to know what he was doing when it wasn't him, so when he found himself reaching for the blades all over again, pulling off his top to avoid stains, it all seemed so natural, so...normal - so okay that nothing in his mind protested to what he was about to do.

One...two...three- slit

One...two...three- slit

One... two...thre-

Once, twice more, and then again he cut, hissing as the pain hit him like a wave, deep, stinging pain that coursed through him in violent shivers. The blades clattered on the wood floor as Emil dropped them to reach for the tissues beside them, clumping them together in to a makeshift sponge to soak up the red that had begun to pool and spill over across his skin. 

Time passed like nothing - if not for the steadily growing pile of blood-soaked papers beside him, Emil would have not had any idea of time passing at all. Finally, the bleeding stopped and Emil was left to stare at the gaping cuts, the skin around them reddening and swelling, making the yellow, grainy lumps of fat that he had cut in to all the more apparent. 

A light, tingly feeling went through his body. His head felt clearer, lighter, cleaner. He liked this, he decided, it was nice. He found himself staring at them, eyes glistening in near childlike curiousity as he reached out with his right hand, forefinger and thumb pushing the torn flesh back together and pulling them apart again, over and over and over again till Emil forgot what he had been doing at all.

A knock on the door, quiet, yet firm and soft at the same time - Lukas.  
Emil froze. No moving. Not allowed. Not ready. The silence stung. 

Another knock. 

More silence.

"Emil," Lukas' voice came quietly, muffled by the door between them, "I'll...I'll leave it out here for you."

More silence. Then footsteps. A little while longer and Emil finally allowed himself to breath, taking in gulps of air in rapid, panicked succession.

Carefully, carefully, Emil made his way to the door, unlocking it and opening it just a little, barely even a crack. Through it, he could make out a small tray, on it a mug, steam pouring from it like a geyser, a little striped paper bag, the pattern all but unfamiliar to Emil, he went to that sweetshop all the time after all...or, used to at least. Beside the mug was a bowl, filled with home-baked butter cookies - Lukas' specialty.

Oh.

It was strange. Just now he had been... numb. Someone else. But now, as he slid the tray in to his room and placed it on the bedside table, he found that, despite himself, butterflies began flooding his stomach, and tiny, tiny droplets swelling from his eyes as he chewed on the cookie. Warmth. It was so...warm. So wonderfully, wonderfully warm.

Beneath the bowl was a note - that was a new...thing?

Scrawled in thin, curling handwriting was a message:

 

Emil,  
The others are going on a trip today and won't be back till tomorrow.  
I'll be out too, but I'll be back this afternoon.

Lukas

 

The note was so, he wasn't sure how to explain it - normal?

Normal. 

He hadn't felt that in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter this time, I hope it didn't trigger anyone as causing someone trouble is the last thing I want to do.
> 
> I felt it was important to include all the same as this fic is very much about my life and self expression, and a very large part of that includes my journey self harm.
> 
> There'll be something a little softer in the next chapter, some nice bonding with Lukas and such alike haha
> 
> Out of curiosity, out of HongIce and SeyIce, what would you prefer? I can't guarantee that it will affect the fic itself it's more out of interest


	5. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emil leaves his room for once and is faced with the most beautiful calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something softer this time.

Maybe we can leave the room today. Maybe. Depends on the time. We'll have to wait either way. Yes, that's true, wait a while longer. 

Conversations like these aren't out of the ordinary, not for Emil at least. He isn't really talking to anyone, yet his words are certainly directed at someone but he isn't really speaking in the first place anyway. It's a little strange, he'll admit, but nowadays he doesn't really know what constitutes as normal. He misses normal. He misses the everyday life, the-

Oh. 

He could hear Lukas - he had come back a few hours ago - making his way to his bedroom. Maybe he could..?

Emil waits a little longer, listening for any sound that might throw him off. Nothing. Cautiously, he leaves his room, taking silent, silent steps across the hallway till he stands before Lukas' door. He could leave. He could leave right now and nothing would ever happen. He wouldn't need to be scared. He could hide again- No. Not today. He won't get this chance again, not for a long time. 

He can't waste this.

He takes a deep breath, grits his teeth and knocks,

"...Lukas.?" His voice is scratchy and thin, shaky and raspy with nerves as he hears muffled footsteps making their way across the hardwood floors before the door before him is gently pulled open.

"Emil," Lukas blinks, usual monotone expression plastered on his face, but the surprise is evident in his eyes as they scan across his face, "Come in," he says, making room for Emil to shuffle in, shutting it behind him.

Time seems to slow for a moment as Emil looks around the room - it's been so long since he's been here yet everything is the same; the same blank white sheets on the oak framed bed, a desk with neatly organised stacks of paper resting in fragile towers upon it, bookshelves hanging from the walls filled with everything from leather-bound antiques to hardback reprints, a bedside table standing like a pedestal for the lamp resting on it, bathing the room in a dim, yellow glow.

By now, Lukas has sat himself down on the bed again, patting the space beside him to indicate that Emil should do the same. 

"..I couldn't sleep." Emil says as he sits down, answering the unspoken question that had filled Lukas' eyes as he pulled his knees to his chest and began to tug distractedly at his sleeves. 

Lukas says nothing. There's nothing to say after all. And yet, so much - so many things he's wanted to say and now that the time has come all thought fades in to a glowing warmth that settles in his stomach like embers, glowing with such fierce emotion that Lukas has to bite back a smile, chewing at his bottom lip till he can breathe again.

Silence remains between them.

So Lukas does what Lukas does best (or likes to think he does) and ruffles Emil's hair, relishing in the distant familiarity of it all before pushing him to lay down, pulling him to his chest as he turns off the light.

"Sleep." He says simply, smiling slightly as Emil squirms a little, shuffling away at first before begrudgingly curling up against him.

It's warm. It's been a while since he's slept with this sort of warmth; of course, him and Mathias often share a bed but this is different. This warmth is small to him, Emil's body tiny in comparison to Mathias' larger build. It's like...the light of a candle, Lukas thinks, so small yet Lukas protects it, cradling it, holding it close and begging that it might never go out. It's so warm. 

Lukas savours it, running his hands through Emil's hair, not caring that months of anxiety have left his hair largely unwashed and oily, tracing down to his nape and laughing soundlessly as Emil grumbles sleepily.

This is how things should be.

Lukas wishes it could be like this forever.

 

By morning, Emil is gone, and Lukas is left feeling empty all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing interactions between Lukas and Emil is something I enjoy a lot, although I think me viewing their relationship as some what queer platonic throughout a lot of it haha.
> 
> Either way, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter although personally I feel it was a bit rushed (I might come back to edit it another time) but I wanna move on to more plot points and character interactions to do with Hong, Sey and one or two surprises :00


	6. Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3am thoughts will be the death of him one day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like some parts of this fic are gonna end up being slightly repetitive,, well only one way to find out I suppose, I just hope I can vary it enough aha. The next couple of major plot points are actually planned out well although the ending isn't........then again I never plan in endings and this story is pretty much exclusively based on my own life and issues so....yeah......

Tired, dry eyes stared mindlessly at the phone, the light that blared from it seeming all the more painful in the dark of his room, burning in to his retina in stab-like jolts.

After a series of seemingly endless taps on the screen, he turned it off, arm flopping to his side as the other rested on his forehead. He sat up abruptly, eyes flicking to the digital clock resting on his bedside table - 3:02am - well...probably time to sleep soo- wait. He looked closer at the date that flashed in small lettering beneath the time: 

28 / 08

28th August. 

Shit.

He reached for the calendar hanging above it, squinting in the blue-black darkness of the room to make out the date highlighted in neon colours: September 5th - the day school started all over again. 

Hit with a wave of anxiety-fueled exhaustion, he lay back on to the bed, ragged breaths audible in the silence of early morning.

 

His last year...hadn't exactly been ideal - after concerns on his relationship with food and his body, from doctors and his therapist, as well as Lukas' worries about his mental health, he had been taken out a little less than two weeks in to the new year of a new school. 

Of course, full homeschooling had been an option - Lukas would have been more than willing to invest in a private tutor, or even teach him himself - but Emil had refused, feeling suffocated by the idea of home becoming less of a safe space and nothing more than another place to survive within rather than "live".

Textbooks had been his saving grace then - that and his intelligence. In the least vain way, Emil was smart - he'd never had to study in the same way as others and it was honestly the only reason he'd managed to keep his grades up for so long despite his deteriorating mental state. This year however, had been different - amongst therapy sessions and doctors meetings Emil's life had become a haze. Sure he was "better" - with regular healthy meals as monitored by his family his hormones and blood sugar had balanced and being away from school reduced his stress greatly. 

He was better. Sometimes he felt awake, slept better or even found the motivation to clean his room or even leave the house. He was better, but it made him feel sick - as if his body was no longer his own, as if it were being tainted by some outside force. 

"You're just not used to it," they would say, "Unfamiliar thoughts are bound to feel bad." He hated that. Of course he hated change, he hated new and different because he didn't know it - he knew that. But that wasn't it. He didn't know how to explain it - how could he? It just...just felt like someone else had taken over, someone he didn't want there - he was better, but he was worse. It was like those stories, the ones you hear about people on things like antidepressants, they were "better" but they felt dead. Dazed and unaware, uncaring of the things going on around them with intrusive thoughts becoming less threatening than their own. Like cutting the weeds but not digging them up at the roots, or so he had described it to Berwald; they were no closer to hitting the root of the problem than before.

He didn't want to go to school. School meant he would have to leave the house and do work and stop hiding - it meant having to face everything that he had been avoiding since the start of the summer. Oh. It meant therapy too - there was no way for him to get to his school of his own accord which meant he had to be picked up. He'd have to go then.

He didn't want to. Didn't want to be stuck in that stifling room that was too warm and smelt weird and meant that he'd have to talk again. What if they made him go in again without Lukas? He couldn't do that. No. He wouldn't. If they did he'd scream again and shout and cry till they couldn't speak anymore and had to let him ago. Till Lukas felt too worried to leave him on his own again. He'd have to. He'd feel too guilty. 

They wouldn't be able to make him talk anymore.

Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in me focusing on someone else's perspective in the next chapter? As in Lars, Berwald, Tino, Lukas etc.


	7. Of course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tino remembers.
> 
> Set on the same day as chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break, I was struggling to find away to drive the plot; I knew which direction I was heading but not quite how to get there. Thankfully, I got some suggestions from a friend so here I am!

It was warm today.

That was rare; little over two months ago this might have been almost expected, the norm. But the embers had long since gone cold, and though the summer sweltered and boiled above them, everything had a dull, hollowness to it.

It had all seemed so fast at the time, as if everything had collapsed in an instant - in hindsight, they should have noticed the rotting, the wear of the timber that held their home upright.

They should have noticed. All of them. At least one of them should have seen how close he was to breaking - Tino couldn't help but feel personally responsible.

And why shouldn't he? He had all reason to; he had been the first to suggest therapy - when Lukas had come to him, distraught and worried, he had been the one to suggest the doctors, suggest calling around for a professional. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but they were too quick to load Emil's problems off on someone else, and none of them could honestly say they had a proper grasp of how Emil saw the world.

It had all seemed so simple, when the therapist offered medication, when the doctors suggested controlled diets and supplements. It seemed...normal. As if sickness of the mind could be cured as easily as the common cold, as if the disease in Emil's head that seemed terminal to him could be so easily removed and healed like something as simple as single cut.

None of them had looked beyond that. Hadn't he been getting better? He left the house more and ate more healthily, exercising occasionally and seemingly suffering less.

They had been wrong. None of them had tried to understand. Hadn't looked deeper than the upper layers of his issues, hadn't questioned why and how and when and each and every thing that should have been obvious at the time but never was, what should have sent sirens screaming in their heads that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

When summer began, everything spiralled. Emil broke. He came out of his room less and less, skipping meals and refusing appointment after appointment, taking medication turned in to a game of how soon he could spit the pills out before they noticed and how long could he spend out of the house before someone realised that he was gone.

It hurt, a lot.

Of course it did.

But today it was warm, and the hum of the radio that buzzed throughout the house like a light breeze calmed his thoughts.

Of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tino is a very fun character to write, difficult for me to focus on within stories though, I find.
> 
> Please do leave feedback (any is appreciated!!)


	8. Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update. I've been struggling lately but I'm trying to keep to about fortnightly updates. Sorry.

He'd left his room today. Sat in the living room. It had been normal. None of them said anything - Emil wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Had they noticed? How he scratched at his arms and tugged at his sleeves occasionally, how paranoid he seemed when they seemed to ride up just a little too far, showing just a tiny, tiny bit to much skin.

He hoped not. It would only bring more questions. More and more and more and more questions. He was sick of them.

 

"School is soon," Lukas had said out of the blue, voice cool yet terse,

"What about it?" He had responded, giving away no signs of anger, fear - he felt nothing. If he could not convince himself then at least he's have to make sure they knew. 

"Do you want to go? I can set you up for homeschooling instead-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm going. You can't stop me." 

The fear was starting to leave an edge in his voice,

"I won't." Lukas answered, slightly taken aback.

"Good, then."

 

Silence settled around them once more, the air becoming thick and hard to breath as his emotions began to rise,

 

"Will you go to therapy again?" 

"Why?" He stated more than asked,

"To keep you safe-"

"Why would you want that?" He'd slipped up.

"What do you-"

"I'll go. Ignore me." He interrupted, hoping that Lukas would forget forget forget and forget again, till nothing was left.

"Emil, are you sure?"

"It's fine." He was getting agitated now, scratching at the top of his hand,

"Is it really?"

"Who knows. Who cares." He wanted to leave. He needed to. Now. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout-

"I do."

Shut up.

Don't

Lie

To

Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird chapter, I know. I don't know if much else will be explained as it was meant to appear distorted. Who knows. I'm in the same frame of mind right now so I can't say for sure.


	9. Education is important but-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil goes to school. It starts okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter this time, and on time too! Wow.

"Lillebror," Lukas called quietly, accent thick with worry "Ya sure you're goin' to be alright?"

They were sat in the car, parked a little away from the school gates. They were early, of course (neither of them liked being late), but that didn't make the flow of half awake teens wandering in and out of the gates, mumbling and chattering amongst themselves.

"Don't call me that-" Emil cut him off immediately, but the job was done - that stupid, stupid word always made him feel so small. So tiny and weak and little and made him want to hide and curl up against Lukas. Stupid. "-I'm not a kid." He added, his anxiety made him feel weak enough as it was.

"I'll be fine." He mumbled, some instinctive child within him taking control and pressing his head against Lukas' shoulder, hair falling across his face - he didn't want Lukas to see.

He was just a little stiff, having grown unaccustomed to even vague (willing) displays of vulnerability or affection - but he accepted it readily, and as his finger began stroking through his hair, Emil could practically feel the waves of near motherly protectiveness rolling off of Lukas.

"You don't have to go in. We can still go-" Lukas began, as he wrapped his arms around Emil as if wanting to hide him from the world,

"Lukas," Emil cut him off again, looking up just enough to meet his eyes, "It doesn't matter anymore,"

"But-"

"I'm gonna go now." Emil untangled himself from Lukas' arms, threw his bag over his shoulder and opened the door.

 

It was stifling, being cramped on to benches with so many people. As always, the new school term began with an assembly of sorts, in which the head teacher would spend about 10 minutes regurgitating the same information he did every year in a slightly different format: high expectations, best behaviour and hard work. Whatever.

At least now he was safe. Or safer at least (by his standards). After assembly, they had all been sent to their respective community groups (or tutor groups. Or homerooms. Or form. The name changed every year). Having been sat at the back and in his last year, Emil was one of the first to get away, quickly slipping in to an isolated seat in the back of his classroom - even the teacher hadn't arrived yet.

He listened intently, the rush of footsteps outside was unsettling, but it wasn't till the door was pushed open that Emil found himself panicking again. He was ignored mostly, thankfully, as his classmates spared him a glance at worst and didn't even notice him at best, each taking whatever seats they wanted or could.

Maybe this would be fine after all?

"Emil?! Is that you?"

Never mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave reviews of any sort I'm a sucker for literally any sort of critique so I'm yeah thanks hope you liked it.


	10. Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil re-meets with a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And early update???? With an average not ridiculously short wordcount????? What???

Emil looked up cautiously, pleading that it would be someone safe, someone kind, someone he knew - someone like Lili, who stood before him, beaming happily,

'Calm down," Emil thought to himself, trying to quell the anxiety, "Lili's nice. We like Lili, remember?'

"Hi Lili," he said quietly, forcing a smile on to his face, "It's been a while..How've you been?"

"I've been fine as always," she grinned, "What about you? You stopped coming for a while, were you okay?"

"Oh, uh..." Avoiding Lili's eyes, he trailed off awkwardly, unsure on how to respond - being blunt wasn't an option here, but lying wasn't exactly his most preferred option - "Well I'm alive at least," he laughed weakly, trying to play it off as humourous or casual - but as he met her eyes again he couldn't help but notice the way her cheerful demeanor dropped for a sec, concern lacing her voice even as she resumed a sympathetic smile,

"Anything you wanna talk about?" She asked carefully,

"It's fine," he mumbled uncomfortably, eyes wandering around the room, "I mean- It's just nothing you can help me with," he corrected, noticing Lili's stern look, "Sorry," he added, feeling guilty somehow - she was the only person who ever bothered with him really (not that he could blame the others, Emil was miserable company and he knew it).

"It's no problem," she answered sympathetically, using a motherly tone of voice that Emil couldn't help but relate to Tino back home. "Do you want to eat lunch with me later? You can spend break with me too if you want, there'll probably be some of my friends there - but you don't have to stay long! Just a little while, at least," she trailed off a little, "Please - it would make me happy," she added quickly, sensing his hesitance.

"Ah...Okay," he agreed, still a little unsure but too thankful for Lili's understanding of his anxiety and near embarassing lack of both social skills and friend to invite him to join her. She was too kind, really - to everyone, not just him - and her combination of almost unnerving intuition and empathetic understanding of those around her made Lili a "safe" person to Emil. She was one of the few people he had confided in - and one of the few to stick around - and though he hadn't told her much, she seemed intent on not only being his friend but also looking after him as much as possible.

He felt guilty, shutting her out whilst he hid to get away from school - he hadn't even given her his phone number, it was a miracle she hadn't just forgotten or given up on him. But she hadn't - she'd remembered him, she said she wanted - that she'd like - him around. Not felt that he should come, not wanting him around out of some motherly sense of obligation but because it would make her "happy". 

Kindness was such a strange thing, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this wasn't too anticlimactic aha, but hopefully there should be some actual plot no conflict n stuff from now on yay
> 
> As always comments are greatly appreciated cause they really motivate and spur me on


	11. Gay Thoughts Go Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emil meets some new people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i say fuck you consistent story themes and throw some casual stuff in

Lessons had gone smoothly. He'd kept to himself mostly, the back of the classroom becoming a secluded alcove of solace to him; besides the occasional uncomfortable introduction, no-one bothered with him much.

It was comforting now, having been lonely and tense at first, but Lili's kindness had left a warm lull of safety settled around him, quelling his anxiety and slowing the adrenaline that had flooded through his body.

It was strange, being back in school. The environment had become foreign to him, but there was a certain familiarity to the rhythm of the school day. He didn't recognize many people in his class - to be fair, he had missed out on most of his last year, not to mention each year had a few hundred students - it wasn't exactly surprising, but Emil found himself torn between relief and disappointment at the lack of familiar faces.

Lunch came quickly - Emil wasn't sure if he liked that or not, but it came nonetheless and he found himself waiting a little uneasily in the corner of the cafeteria, to the left of the entrance, right where Lili told him to meet her. Her class has been let out late, he thinks - or hopes at least, he doesn't want to start imagining alternate possibilities: his mind is a little too....'creative' for his liking, no point in thinking now, right?

"Emil!" he turns to see Lili, followed by two other people, a wide-eyed girl with pigtails and dark skin and an inconspicuous-looking boy who's face seemed weirdly familiar, though Emil couldn't quite place why, "Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to go find my friends," Lili beamed widely, gesturing to the people besides her, "This is Michelle, and this is Matthew - there might be some more people joining us later, I hope it doesn't bother you too much," she added earnestly, clearly wanting Emil to feel as comfortable as possible - it was touching, in a way.

"It's fine," He reassured, giving Michelle and Matthew a shy nod as a greeting, raising his hand a little to give a feeble wave of sorts - he was never one for introductions, usually choosing to hide behind one of his various family members - here, he didn't exactly have that liberty. 

"Great!" She says, clapping her hands together, "Let's go and sit down then," 

She leads him to a free table, patting the seat next to her on the bench, Michelle sitting down on her other side, flopping on to the table lazily, presumably to take a nap. Matthew meanwhile, opened up his bag and unpacked his food, sending him a friendly smile as Emil bit his lip, uncertain of whether it was appropriate to eat or not. Though he still wasn't quite comfortable, hunger won over and Emil reluctantly began to chew at his food, unconsciously hunching over a little to seem as small as possible.

A few minutes passed in a calming quiet, the hum of the other students' chatter creating soft white noise that served as a backdrop for Lili's occasional quiet conversation with Michelle, who seemed to only communicate in a high-pitched, quiet babble that Emil couldn't quite decipher from where he sat.

"Yo-" Emil looked up to see another person sitting down at the table, an east-Asian guy who seemed to give off a very different vibe to Lili's other friends, seeming more like the type to hang with the larger, louder crowds, "Who's the new kid?" he asked curiously, eyeing him up and down intently as Emil gave Lili a slightly desperate look. Sensing his discomfort, Lili gave him a comforting smile before looking to the stranger sitting across from him (still staring, very, very intently),

"Leon, this is Emil, I talked about him earlier-" Lili introduced, "Emil, this is Leon, he's another one of my friends," 

"Emil, huh," The stranger's - or Leon's, as Emil now knew him as, eyes never left him. At first glance, they were brown - and though Emil did his absolute, absolute to avoid eye contact, hoping that maybe then he would stop staring - on closer inspection however, his eyes were more of a yellow gold, near glowing in contrast to his dark hair. Emil shook the thoughts from his head, now was really not the time to contemplate a stranger's eye colour, especially when said stranger was still staring, eyes practically dissecting him. He couldn't figure out what he was thinking, or feeling - his eyes were....intense, to say the least but his face was monotone, perhaps even bored? Emil was about to open his mouth to finally say something, anything-   
"You never said he was cute-" Leon said, slight teasing tone in his voice as a grin spread across his face, the statement clearly directed at Lili and yet his eyes still did not stray from him, watching with a smug expression as Emil pressed his lips together, face flushing red.

"I think I like him already," Leon decided firmly, ignoring his jumbled protests and getting out his lunch instead.

 

Emil did not need this right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all seriousness though i hope this chapter was okay, i've had some....technological errors shall we say which means my writings been a bit delayed. I kinda rushed this chapter but i hope its okay nonetheless, as always any comments or critiques are helpful as i'm always looking to improve, i'm usually very much aware of my flaws but if anyone has anything specific to point out i would be very thankful!
> 
> I'd also like if people could say their thoughts on the first actual hongice interactions (yaaaaay) i haven't written them in ages so as always all comments appreciated :D


	12. What if I am?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dissasociating in the toilets and talking in class about matters that are more than private

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I feel like I've posted too much exposition based stuff tbh I feel bad for not having anything more intense but aha here we are anyway

One minute he was fine, and then he wasn't.

He paused, hands shaking as he tried to stable his breathing, fumbling with the locker combination.

"You okay there Em?" Leon asked, who's locker was (in)conveniently right next to Emil's, "Your vibes went weird all of a sudden,"

"I'm fine," He breathed, trying to seem convincing despite the way his vision blackened at the edges, how everything seemed to flatten as if the world around him as suddenly drawn on paper, "And it's Emil, not Em." He corrected automatically - Leon seemed to have taken to calling Emil anything and everything except his actual name, which wasn't as annoying as he made out, but Emil couldn't help but be reminded of Lukas and his antics.

"Whatever you say Emmy," he replied, unbothered by his protests. Emil frowned, but said nothing, too distracted by the ringing in his ears to correct him again.

"I'm gonna go now," he said quietly, awkwardly turning and walking away as his mind scrambled for something to do something to say someone to see to speak to a way to go a place to hide

The toilets would have to do.

Pushing his way in to a cubicle, Emil hastily locked the door and finally allowed himself to sink to the floor. His body began to tingle lightly - as if tiny sparks were buzzing across his skin - as Emil traced his fingers across the palm of his hand, he couldn't help but feel as if it all wasn't quite real - as if his limbs weren't quite there or he couldn't control them properly unless he thought about each of his movements in robot-like codes, commands and functions.

The bell rang.

Mechanically, Emil stood up and made his way to class, worming his way through the crowd and entering the classroom only to see Leon at the back, waving him over.

"I saved you a seat," he says simply as Emil approaches him cautiously, moving his bag from the chair next to him and points for Emil to sit, which he does, if a bit reluctantly. He mumbles a quiet thank you which Leon is quick to waive off, tapping absentmindedly at his phone (completely ignoring the teacher who has stepped up by this point.)

 

Half an hour passes and Leon switches from staring at his phone to staring at Emil again, resting his head in his arms and lazily watching Emil as he took diligent notes on the syllabus that was to come. As the class splits to do independent work Emil finally notices him staring, eyes flicking from Leon to the floor and back again over and over uncomfortably, flustered in a way that makes Leon want to tease him more, if he was honest. But he wasn't honest, and now wasn't exactly the time for that anyway, so he ignores it.

 

"So what's your deal anyway?" 

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Why weren't you at school? Lili hasn't mentioned you before but she says you were friends for a while and I remember your name being on the register last year," Leon pauses for a moment, "What's up with that?"

Emil takes a moment to figure out how to respond, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to put together a coherent sentence,

"I don't really know how to answer that," Emil shrugs, "I just uh...Wasn't really in I guess. I wasn't skipping or anything, was all legal and allowed and everything I just...didn't come in I suppose," he laughs slightly, trying to pass off something clearly unusual as casual, and badly at that.

"Why's that?" Leon asks, raising a brow, "If you don't mind me asking, of course." He adds out of courtesy, but Emil can tell it's little more than that at this point. 

"Uhh..." Should he tell him? It wasn't exactly a secret, really - and Emil had never been private about things like that (especially after therapy). Would it seem like attention-seeking? He didn't know. "I was...ill. Sort of. Like...Mentally." he trails off, unconsciously scratching at his scabs, what else is there to say?

"So you had a mental illness?" Leon asks,

"Have-" Emil corrects, perhaps a little too quickly, "But uh, yeah."

"What sort of illness?" He's curious now - it's getting interesting.

"Depression. Anxiety. Some eating disorder based stuff I guess." He says vaguely, not wanting to go in to too much detail - not wanting to be seen as weak or broken,

(Even if he is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do tell me if there's anything you'd like to see more of/think I should include or improve on - I really want to make this fic as enjoyable as possible to readers


	13. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny hints of broken bleed through the fabric of his sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this chapter like 2 days ago but uhhh didn't wanna post too early cause I wanna keep some pacing at least

It's only when class ends that Emil notices the red seeping through his clothes:

"Shit-" he curses under his breath, gripping his arm to stop the flow of blood - his next class is on the other side of the grounds and there's no time to go to the toilets and clean himself up, "Fucking kill me please I don't need this right now-" He looks around desperately, would anyone notice? Leon. Maybe he could-? No. Absolutely not. But maybe...?

"Leon do you uh...have a tissue or something? I would go to the toilets but my class is on the other end of campus," he asks a little pleadingly, still gripping his arm.

"Oh, yeah sure." Leon hands him a small pack, "Take the whole pack while you're at it, I always have spare." He grins as Emil takes it gratefully - a genuine smile, for sure, but his eyes never leave Emil's arm-

"Thanks," He says honestly, "I should go now probably, don't wanna be late." 

Emil turns and walks in the opposite direction, increasing his pace so that he can stuff the tissue up his sleeve as soon as he's out of the others view.

Leon calls his name and Emil freezes, turning to him questioningly,

"See you around sometime, okay?" Emil nods automatically, turning and walking away so quickly that he almost misses Leon say the last part, "You seem...interesting. Or something like that."

 

Before he knows it, it's the end of the day and he's making his way to the school gates, where Lukas is waiting, having been too impatient and worried about his little brother's wellbeing to simply wait in the car.

"What are you doing out here?" Emil asks irritably, being picked up and dropped off at school was fine but having someone - especially Lukas - waiting right by the gates is just awkward honestly.

(Or so he tells himself)

Lukas is about to respond when Emil begins to usher him along to get to the car,

"You know what - never mind, let's just go, okay?" He says, having spotted Lili, Michelle and Leon (as well as someone he doesn't recognise) out of the corner of his eye - he can't tell if they've seen him yet, but Emil really doesn't want to deal with introductions today. Especially to Lukas. Specifically to Leon.

(Something tells him that they're not going to get along, despite their similar personalities - perhaps because of exactly that?)

 

He's battered with questions the moment the car doors close, so many that Emil just stares at Lukas incredulously till he finally quiets and starts again, asking just the one for a start,

"Was it okay?"

"I guess." Emil shrugs, staring at his shoes, "I dunno. Good as it's gonna get. It's school - not exactly gonna be rainbows 'n sunshine."

Lukas says nothing, focusing on the road as they sit in a comfortable silence for a while,

"...Did you cope?"

Emil shrugs again. He slips on his head phones, finger hesitating at the play button,

"I'm gonna listen to music now."

(He presses the button, and then he's gone again)

 

When he gets home, he avoids the questions all over again like gunfire, cleans his wounds and locks his door.

He doesn't want to "be" 

Just for a while

A while, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls comment thoughts and feelings, I'm also curious as to how many people still keep up with this? If you're reading please comment a random word even if you don't actually have anything to say I could rly use that right now


	14. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't let go
> 
> Not now
> 
> Not like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updating schedule is non existent and that's fine honestly
> 
> In other news this chapter is long!! Or at least a lot longer than my others - over 1300 words! I'm kinda proud of myself to be honest, it's a bit weird. Either way, please enjoy!

Weeks pass, smoothly (to some degree) and Emil finds himself falling in to a consistent rhythm of repressing till he breaks, over and over again till it's familiar and predictable, close to comfort (almost).

He's grown closer with Lili again, maintaining and improving on their previous, comfortable bond. He'd grown closer with them all, really - he'd learnt to understand Michelle's strange way of talking and her general oddness (he sensed that there was much more behind this, but left the questions unasked) and come to know that Matthew was surprisingly talkative the moment he realised someone actually paid attention to him (something that still made little sense to Emil, but it meant that he didn't have to talk much without feeling uncomfortable so it was nice). He'd even gotten to know the stranger from before: a loud individual called Yong Soo, who was "sort of Leon's brother, but not really" and had little grasp of the concept of personal space - similarly to Leon, who seemed to have taken to practically draping himself over Emil whenever he had the chance.

Like now, for example:

"Leon - get off."

Emil had been sitting in the library with Lili and Michelle, peacefully studying away - key word: had. Within seconds of Leon showing up he was hanging over Emil again, leaning over the back of his chair with his arms wrapped around Emil's shoulders.

"I'm good," he says simply, tone lax and mildly infuriating,

"Well, I'm not. Get off."

"Nah,"

"Leon. Seriously."

"You don't mean that-" he says in what Emil can only describe as a mocking tone,

"Trust me - I do." He insists, gritting his teeth,

"You love me really~" Leon practically sings. Emil rolls his eyes.

"You're annoying-"

"Only for you, babes" Leon shoots back, with so little hesitation that Emil's sure he's practised it (he's not sure if that makes it more or less painful)

"Oh my god-" he groans, giving up - but only because he doesn't know how much more garbage he can stand coming out of Leon's mouth, "Just do whatever..." He adds, slumping forward to lie face-first in his textbook.

"Aww it's okay Emmy baby," Leon coos, and Emil can practically feel the stupid, stupid (smug) facial expression he has right now (he hears Michelle giggle and Lili stifles a laugh), "I'll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you, promise~"

"One day I'm actually gonna punch you, I swear." He protests as Leon's arms sidle around him again, ruffling his hair just a little too gently to be mocking,

"No you won't," Leon laughs, and Emil says nothing because he knows it's true.

(And maybe he doesn't mind as much as he makes out)

 

***

 

Isn't it strange how quickly his mindset could change? How a single trigger, how a tiny push could send the dominos in his head tumbling away. Sometimes there were moments where he forgot: forgot how easily his placid thoughts could boil down in to one-track mind self destruction - it was one of those moments again.

Science class - simple, safe (even if unpleasant) - he was wrong.

It had only been a second, a miniscule moment in which it all changed: the teacher had left the classroom to get printouts, papers - Emil didn't care. All he cared about was what she had left on the preparation table at the back of the class, secluded, far away from everyone but only inches away from him: an open pack of scalpel blades - new, clean and sanitary - tantalising.

(We could take it)

His hands fumbled and fidgeted-

(There'd be no one to stop us)

He eyed the people on the table in front of them, chattering away - they paid him no heed.

(If we do this,) he swallowed, (We'd be falling deeper again)

His hands reached for the pack, slipping a single one from the rest in to his palm,

(That's fine by me)

(This is fine)

He let it fall in to his pocket.

 

The teacher re-enters and his head whips to the front, expression guilty as if caught in the act.

(But he isn't guilty of any crime at all, motivated quietly by his own self-destruction)

When class is over he goes to meet Lili by the library again, giddy and getting high off the guilt and thrill till his stomach feels as if it were writhing.

"Lili!" He calls as he spots her by the door - she's alone, perhaps the others haven't arrived yet? "Hi," he adds when he gets closer, his voice is breathy and a little thin, heart thumping in his chest as Lili greets him with a smile that he doesn't return (though she doesn't mind).

"You seem like you're in a good mood!" She says cheerfully, and Emil instinctively (or defensively, perhaps?) slips the tissue-wrapped blade in to his hand, tracing it through the thin cover-

The pain surprises him at first and he pulls back his hand suddenly, hissing slightly at the stinging sensation-

"Emil? Are you okay? What happened?" 

He panics, wiping the blood off with the edge of his sleeves, laughing weakly, 

"I, uh, had some worksheets in my pocket - guess I messed up a bit," he grins, showing her his finger, hoping she wouldn't notice, "Paper cuts are leth-"

The clink of the blade dropping to the floor betrays him, and he practically collapses to the floor to quickly pick it up, stuffing it back in his pocket, only realising his mistake when he looked at Lili's face.

"Emil, what was that?" Her face is no longer smiling, eyebrows furrowed in thought, something swirling in her eyes that told Emil that the pangs of conscience in his voice hadn't slipped past her, "Emil." She repeats, taking a hold of his wrist.

He can feel himself shrinking.

He can't lie.

(Not like this, and not to her)

 

"It's nothing-" he tries, fumbling under pressure, "It doesn't matter. Don't worry." He adds, voice shaky as his vision starts swirling again and adrenaline begins to bleed in to his veins.

"Please don't pretend Emil," her voice is soft, so gentle that it's almost pleading. 

(Emil thinks that's worse)

"Please." She takes his hands now, pressing them to her own, "I promise whatever it is I won't do anything you don't want me to."

(You don't know what to say)

"You don't know that-" he says weakly, she's shorter than him and yet he feels so small, so tiny in comparison to her, "You don't know anything," he adds, fear tingeing his voice.

(You're cornered)

"Then tell me!" She insists, the concern in her voice melts in to desperation and his resolve weakens.

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine."

He repeats it. Over. Over. Over and over again till his words become rough and thick with tears and wear, till they're both kneeling on the floor, even if he never noticed when.

And she stays. She stays and waits. Silent - words will bring them nowhere right now.

Soon he too drifts in to silence, sniffling occasionally, but only quietly (because it makes him feel weak).

"Could you show me?" She's tentative, careful.

He waits a while. He wants to show her, so badly. He wants to give it to her and cry because everything's broken and he's broken and he's falling apart so quickly but he can't. 

Not now.

(Not like this)

He pulls it out again, gripped tightly in such tiny hands.

"Oh...Oh Emil-" She pulls him close quickly, holding him tightly because she can't bear to let him go right now, not now, when all the puzzle pieces have fallen apart and painted such a hurtful scene.

He grips his lifeline tightly.

His contradictory lifeline of black and white, of fire and ice and all the nothing in the world.

He grips it till his hands are calloused and raw, till he can't hold on anymore.

But he keeps holding on anyway, because he doesn't know how else to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more HongIce for you plus some more looks at Lili's and Emil's relationship, which I'm happy to delve in to a bit more, since it's one I didn't incredibly interesting, dynamic wise.
> 
> It's similar to Tinos and Emil's in a way, yet very different at the same time....I hope this was interesting enough and I managed to keep your attention even in longer chapters. As always, comments are greatly appreciated as they really spur me on :)


	15. Anecdotes From Someone Long Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the many extracts from Emil's diary, a little bit different to the other chapters but it's important, probably.

A step-by-step guide on finding yourself:

Step 1: Listen to music; old songs, new songs, songs you've always hated and songs you've always loved. Find ones that sound like home and listen to them over and over.

Sometimes songs that used to be home won't work anymore - home changes, and that's okay. Find what you need, what you want and what you can never have - then learn to love it.

(A few lines later, rushed notes in bullet points fill most of the rest of the page and the margins)

•Europe Skies - Alexander Rybek  
•Northern Lights - Jaymes Young  
•Fire in the Rain - Måns Zemerlov  
•Serendipity + Spring Day - BTS  
•Bite - Troye Sivan  
•We Don't Talk Anymore  
•Bloom - Paper Kites  
•You Can Be King Again  
•Willow •Ghibli OST's  
•Sofðu, unga ástin mín

 

Step 2: Take photos of the sky, plants, animals, people, yourself - doesn't matter what. All you have to do is capture something and call it beautiful - because it will be and always is - not because of what's in the photo but because you have taken a snapshot, caught a single frame of movement in the grand motion picture that is this life.

Your life.

And it is always moving, always changing. It's malleable and inconsistent and simple and predictable all at once.

Treasure that. Romanticise it till your eyes become kaleidoscopes and even the broken becomes beautiful. Because you have to - have to exaggerate it and convince yourself that the world is some wonderful thing - because you can't survive any other way, not yet.

You'll learn. 

And that's okay too.

 

Step 3: Find the things that make up "you". Make moodboards and reblog every post that you empathise with. Find the puzzle pieces that don't make sense and throw them together till you find the pictures that they make.

(Again, in rushed messy writing, quick notes)

•northern lights •ice caves  
•night air •puffins •minerals + gems •dawn colours •baggy sweaters + hoodies •fairy lights

 

Step 4: Dream. Dream big. Unreasonably, stupidly, "this-will-absolutely-never-happen-you-idiot" big. Imagine dating celebrities and travelling every country in the world, imagine owning every book in the world that has the word "hope" in it and still having space for more.

Now think small. Think tiny, tiny dreams so basic and rationally possible that you might as well be predicting the future. Dream of looking up at the sky and the feeling of fabric between your fingers, dream of your breath coming from your mouth in clouds of vapour like smoke. 

Now let yourself believe that each of those dreams is equally possible, let yourself love both your possibilities and limitations. Futility is beautiful in its own way, as is potential.

 

Step 5: Remind yourself of what I keeping you here. What part of yourself is stopping you from crossing the barrier and stepping in to the abyss. Find it again. Hold on to it.

(Empty bullet points are here. Crossed out names and words now erased are stark on the page against the grey and black scrawls that cover the rest)

 

Step 6: Ask yourself: if there were a heaven, a realm suited specifically to you and your wishes, what would it be like?

(You cannot pick apart all that is written here)

like home, the point where the sky and the sea meet horizon fall apart melt in to the cool of nothing I can fly breathe underwater a hut on the mountains, it's warm inside books, fairy lights, blankets arms that are always there to hold me no matter how long I'm gone for always

 

always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this wasn't too weird of a chapter, I've been struggling with some things so I'm finding it a little difficult to make the plot progress more naturally, (though the next proper chapter should be up soon!)
> 
> It's personal to me, this chapter, even more so than the others if only because of its more casual format. 
> 
> If you can perhaps take the time to answer the questions of your own accord; I find people's answers to be fascinating!
> 
> If you're short on time or simply can't be bothered i strongly recommend that you look at the very last step - Shane Koyzcan is a huge inspiration for me, and his poetry has helped me pull through a number of times.  
> His piece "Heaven, or whatever" is likely my favourite piece of his - that, along with Troll and To This Day, all of which are available on YouTube.
> 
> If you do end up creating some sort of response, please do leave it in the comments! I find it really interesting to see people's own perceptions and "personifications" of motivation!


	16. Fish-Bowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His head is filled with fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update because i have a lot of plot to cover before the final chapter (which needs to be out specifically on february 19th for,, reasons..........)

By the time the others get back his tears have dried and his voice has steadied - he greets them kindly, albeit more withdrawn than usual. He can't help but feel guilty when he sees Lili now - the scalpel is back in his pocket now, delicately wrapped in a single tissue - courtesy of Lili - she seems...shaky.

For a moment, he thinks her eyes seem a bit red, a little swollen.

He could be wrong.

(He could be right)

Perhaps his eyes are the same? Emil doubts anyone would notice either way, his eyes are unusual as they are, so it's unlikely a little swelling would make a difference - right?

The rest of the afternoon goes by quickly - Emil feels hazy and his thoughts feel slow and thick, foggy and sludgy, as if he were stuck in quicksand. He's tired and his responses are even more tired-sounding than usual, lethargic and unmotivated. He can't even be bothered to become annoyed with Leon's constant quips and teasing.

"What's up with you today Em's?" He asks casually, arm slinging around his shoulders,

"Nothing really," he says quietly, "Just tired." He doesn't bother complaining as he usually would, or trying to push Leon's arm off - what was the point anyway? At the end of the day it was just a person, touching him - and at this point Emil couldn't even really feel it, the only reminder that it was there at all was a dull, tingling sensation.

Leon hums quietly, and Emil can tell he doesn't believe him, but he can't bring himself to care (let alone do anything about it).

“If you say so,” Leon stretches before leaning on to the desk and resting his head in his hands, “You're not like...being very convincing though.” He adds, grinning pointedly.

“I'm not trying to be convincing.” Emil frowns slightly, brows furrowing. What reason does he have to convince people of his feelings? He's not the most expressive, that's for sure, but shouldn't him being hard to read be all the more reason to simply accept what he says? 

 

Leon is confusing, Emil thinks – he can't tell if he's unusually perceptive, like Lili, or if he's just intrusive. He seems to have an inkling, at the very least, that Emil is hiding something, but whether he knew the full extent...?

He doubts it.

“I'm gonna go.” He says simply, pulling the straps of his bag over his shoulder and leaving.

Leaving again, like always, unable to address the wordless feeling of numb in his mind. Because it's easier, so much simpler to succumb to it alone when you cannot even begin to put your battles in to words.

 

He comes home to an empty house, filled to the brim with a silence that Emil can't figure out, can't tell whether the stillness is comforting or agitating.

He doesn't know.

Nagging at the back of his mind, yet faded and distant like the sound of a door opening and closing again in the wind at midnight. Fish-bowl thoughts of life, how each day is worth nothing yet useless in accumulation as well, all words falling apart and becoming sensations that Emil cannot possibly describe. Perhaps it is like music, like turning music in to a picture and then in to words and then five other languages before a single sentence becomes cohesive.

It hurts his head to try and explain, so he stops – there's no-one to explain it to anyway, he's pushed them all away.

Yet still the nagging feeling continues.

And still he stays in his fish-bowl, circling, circling – over and over till he forgets he could ever remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic is just current mood to be honest im struggling hahahaha


	17. Stench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy is never enjoyable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! I know officially it is every two weeks but I still feel as though I'm behind,,,,, I've been struggling to write lately it's very frustrating...

"Hello Emil! Long time no see," Ivan smiles at him, clipboard and sheets in one hand and a pen in the other, "Why don't you and your brother take your seat?"

Emil sinks in to the couch reluctantly, hands in his lap as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt - the clinic has a certain smell to it, the stuffiness of waiting rooms and strange scent of hospitals melding together in to something that Emil can't describe but can certainly say he dislikes. If it faded quickly it would probably be less bothersome, he thinks, but it tends to stick to his clothes - Lukas' too - and hangs around for at least the rest of the day.

The scent of therapy clings to him and it makes him sick.

 

"How about we get right in to it, yes? If you could both fill out these forms please,"

Ivan hands them both a few sheets, question upon question listed with a set of "never, always, sometimes or often" answers - he's done it a million times before and he runs through each question like clockwork.

He sometimes feels sick for no reason at all.

He's always tired.

He never feels comfortable around crowds.

He rarely sleeps well.

Often, he has thoughts of death or suicide.

 

Ivan hums quietly as he reads through their results - Lukas has done a similar test but focusing on how he views Emil - the same questions, really, but restructured to ask how Lukas sees Emil as of now.

They're surprisingly similar, given how little Emil tells Lukas, but he doesn't miss how many times he recircled options on the last question, crossing out and redoing his answer over and over, till he leaves it at nothing but loose scribbles and a question mark hanging over the question. Neither of them miss how they each eye the other's results.

There's a flash of pain in Lukas' eyes as he sees Emil's final answer; Emil closes his eyes and listens to the hum of the air conditioning till Ivan clears his voice to catch their attention.

"Hmm, your scores have gotten a lot lower than the last time I saw you," he smiles, but his eyes are curious, boring in to him, "Though that is what you are here for anyway, so we will just have to work on that, don't you think?"

Emil says nothing, shrugging tiredly instead.

"Now," Ivan flips to the next page, "Why don't you start telling me what happened during your holidays?"

\- And so the fun begins anew. 

 

***

 

The clock hits half past, and Emil is free once more.

"I'm glad you came today," He begins, and Emil doesn't know if he should dread this conversation or not, 

"Okay." He says simply - what else is there to say? He hasn't done it for anyone, (especially not himself) so 'you're welcome' just wouldn't fit, and it's not okay, or fine, so he can't say that either.

 

The atmosphere is heavy when they get in the car - tingly yet thick with questions that Emil knows Lukas never wants to hear the answer to but will always want to ask.

"I won't do anything, you know," Lukas doesn't look at him, but Emil can tell he's thinking, "There's no point in going anywhere, so I just won't."

He's not sure if Lukas understands.

He's not sure if he wants Lukas to.

(Because he's not sure if it's something that won't change, ruminate and become a lie over time)

 

\- When Tino invites him to tag along to help with the shopping, he can't agree faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah Ivan's the therapist now! I was originally considering all sorts of people like maybe Macau or America or China or even Ukraine but went for Ivan in the end cause China and Macau would be too closely involved with Hong Kong (being friends with your therapists brother is just awkward) and America is technically Matthew's brother who is not only already involved with story but also a high school student soooo
> 
> On a side note A.C.S.O.L has officially exceeded the 1000 hits mark!! Not only that but over 75 kudos!!!!! Aaaaand the 10000 word mark!!! So many things!!!!!! Aaaaaaaa!!! I'm honestly so happy and thankful for all you readers who have continued to put up with my garbage updates ;-;


	18. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's barely managing, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the hiatus, I've had many issues of my own as usual and it's killed a lot of my motivation for anything at all. 
> 
> As always this chapter is a bit of a vent of my own experiences, so perhaps that can shed some light on why I haven't been posting.
> 
> I'm hoping to update more regularly soon, whether that be on Extraterrestrial or here, but god knows with the way things are going aha.

"Gosh it's been so long since we've done anything like this!" Tino smiles, eyes flicking to Emil before focusing on the road again as Lars and Peter merrily bicker in the backseats.

It's always a little chaotic with Tino, Emil thinks, something that's especially clear now that he's stuck in a car with both Tino and the kids (Tino's....'sporadic' driving certainly doesn't help the situation, but Emil reassures himself that they'll be safe, even if they almost ran someone over). But perhaps it's that sort of placid chaos that Emil needs - at the very least, it serves as a good distraction.

It goes as smoothly as it can get. Peter nearly knocks over half a shelf's worth of wares twice and Lars nearly does the same, albeit with less force, taking to staring at the screen of his tablet and losing himself in his own pixelated little world. They manage to get most things on the list, with the exception of a few minor items here and there, but Tino was pleased with what they bought, even buying a few pastries on the way back for them all to share as a sort of thank you, so Emil supposed that it was fine.

He's surprised when they get home - when Lars and Peter run off to play their games Tino presses a packet of sweets in to his hands - sending him a smile before going to get the shopping from the car. Emil's thankful, of course - he's always had a sweet tooth, and he's hoping the sugar will take his mind off of the sick feeling that always came about when he left the house.

He goes upstairs and lays in bed, motionless. He needs to clean his room again, really. The dirty clothes and used plates and cutlery had began piling up sometime last Wednesday. He's tired, though - far too tired to do anything about the mess that keeps on growing around him; it will have to wait.

 

And naturally, since rooms do not clean themself, a week passes before he finds the energy to commit himself to it again, silently picking apart the clutter and mess.  
He hasn't been to class in a week, either - the first three weeks before that were far too much for him, far, far, far too much for his tired mind. The day after day after wretched day routine was exhausting - spending hours stuck in crowded classrooms only to come home to more people, weekends spent in a full house that gives him no space to stay in his safe place in silence. 

He'd asked before, of course, asked to stay off for a day or two to recover and recuperate but it had always been the same answer: sympathetic looks and "try for one more day"s, "if you're not up to it you can leave midday"s and the sighs that made him feel guilty for asking at all. He tried. He tried for three full weeks of going to one god forsaken lesson after another.

But he had long since passed his limit.

(And passing his limit made him want to scream)

 

"We can talk to the school," Lukas had said, "See what options are available to make it easiar for you,"

Mathias had agreed, as had Tino, and Berwald. Emil didn't.

"That's not it. It's not about school because school itself isn't the problem. I'm just tired of this."

"Well maybe we can contact Ivan again, huh? See if he can get more in order so that you have more regular appointments, maybe even get you some meds?" Mathias had asked.

Emil's unhappiness persisted.

(His voice was growing shaky, thick, volume rising slowly, slowly, slowly)

"That could take weeks. Same for talking to the school. Its not about next week, or next month or next year. I don't care about the future. I care that I can't handle now."

"Just try, you can skip some lessons in between if you want, don't be too hard on yourself," Mathias had continued,

(Enough)

"That doesn't help."

"Isn't there a little break room they organised for you? The one with the beanbags and books everywhere," Tino had added.

(Enough)

"That doesn't help unless I need to calm down - when I'm having panic attacks or just general anxiety. It doesn't help." 

He tries to ignore the tears. They make him weak. They hurt. They make him vulnerable and he hates that they can see it all.

"Just.. give it a try Emil, we'll sort something out soon, promise."

The hand on his shoulder burns, meant to comfort and heal but now it hurts and hurts and hurts.

He pushes it away, tears falling more quickly now, voice trembling yet loud, too loud and too quiet all at once.

(Enough)

"I don't care. I can't do this anymore and at the rate I'm going I don't want to do anything anymore."

 

The conversation is over.

They know what he means.

They must do, or else they've misunderstood him all over again.

(He doesn't care anymore, he's alone now and the house is empty)

(By the end of the day his room is clean again, his phone lies filled with unopened messages from any number of people)

(Emil doesn't open them, doesn't tell them why or when or how or where)

(He doesn't quell their concerns because they would be quelled with lies)

 

He still refuses to look them in the eye. He wants them to know that they have done wrong, that their misunderstanding of his hurt has only caused more.

Perhaps that is cruel

To him, this is how he must survive

Or else he really will fall apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've liked to be a little further with this plot by now....sigh. Hopefully I'll be more motivated if I force out a few more chapters, at least this one is a little longer than usual (around 950 words in comparison to the usual 500 or so).
> 
> Nonetheless please do comment your thoughts, I'm quite curious as to where people think the story will go from here.
> 
> Additionally I wanted to ask, would people like this to be a very long fic, that goes on for a while to capture the unfortunate longevity of mental illness better as well as explore other characters more, or would you rather I did minimal filler and focused more on moving the plot along? Please, please, please do comment what you'd prefer, even if it's a very short answer aha


	19. Embers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lili explains all manner of things, and Leon is the way he is.

Coming back after so long is, as always, a stagnant feeling - a festering sensation of some acrid nervousness that makes his steps heavy and languid as he walks to the cafeteria. How is he supposed to explain this week gone by? His school absence, and lack of activity online, his refusal to respond to messages out of some self imposed isolationism that ultimately led to nothing but more turmoil. Will they even want to speak to him, after something like this? It's the first time something like this has happened (and Emil has no guarantee that it will be the last), but what to do with himself and these people? 

He waits by the usual spot, left of the doors to the northern part of the campus, pulling at his sleeves and adjusting the straps of his backpack far too many times to be out of necessity alone - anxiously waiting, waiting.

"Emil!" He turns to the shout - surprised to see smiles greeting him (with the exception of Michelle who seems annoyed at him for a few seconds, before her face splits in to a grin and she practically runs at him, something that takes him a little off guard). He's met with a flurry of questions, of where he was and why he was gone and whether he was going again, and he answers - as truthfully as he can allow himself to be - before they all (Michelle, Matthew, Yong Soo, Lili and him) sit down, all together as if nothing had happened. 

It's peaceful - perhaps not calm but it's comfortable, homely somehow, even if the twinging pains in Emil's arm refuse to stop. Leon's arms sidle around him at some point, accompanied by the usual remarks and touchy mannerisms - something that Emil refutes, embarrassed and flustered by his nonchalant closeness. He's left no better when Leon finally leaves, "gifting" him with a smirk, a wink and a quiet whisper, that Emil thinks only he heard;

'It's good to have you back, we missed you.'

It's something that leaves him feeling unexpectedly warm, giddy with something he can't quite place.

***

Lili asks him to meet her in the old science lab after class, not trusting a week alone to leave him unscathed - and she's right, of course, (she always is) but Emil can't help but feel frustrated at his own dependence. 

This isn't the first time they're doing this. Lili insisted since she found out, the two of them often arranging to slip away during the quiet times, whenever she noticed him tugging at his sleeves one time too many or simply wanted to make sure, to reassure herself that he was some sort of secure, no matter how fragile.

He's not sure how to feel about this arrangement, honestly speaking - it's uncomfortable, having to show someone each new cut and scar, some sense of guilt trembling in his chest each time fresh ones scatter across his skin. It's natural to feel guilty, isn't it? To feel bad for the worry you've caused with your own stupid decisions, for the sense of quiet disappointment that Emil can't help but find within Lili's empathy.

The sadness she feels for him is no different than hurting her, no different than cutting in to her skin rather than his own, is it not?

Yet he does not protest this arrangement; perhaps out of some sense of want to make amends, obliging by her wishes in an attempt to give her some sense of ease. He wonders why it makes her feel better (or so she says) - would it not be easier to forget? To check every once in a while and send him to someone else and burden someone more qualified? The number of cuts will not lessen through this - his self hatred will not be quelled and she knows this. 

They both know. 

'Yet still, she persisted.'

And he cannot understand it, not yet - but he will humour her choice to face this storm, try and play in to some foolish hope for contentment. He can only hope it does not end in tears - neither for her nor for him - though mostly for her; his tears no longer have worth, his pain having become unimportant through long-standing persistence.

***

She joins him soon enough, quickly unpacking her bag - plasters, steri-strips, bandages, gauze dressings and disinfectant spray; a growing set of supplies that Emil feels reluctant to use given that Lili bought it (and out of her own money at that) for his sake and no other, though she said that then he had all the more reason to use it - to not let her efforts go to waste. 

"You still haven't told me how much I owe you." he mumbles, holding out his arm for her to sterilize.

"Yes I have," she says, dabbing a cotton bud against the wound lightly, "You owe me nothing, I want you to be safe. And healthy. And happy."

He pauses.

"But I can't give you that," he frowns, "That means I'm indebted to you."

"Your happiness doesn't have monetary value Emil," she says under her breath, quiet with concentration, "Happiness is priceless and worthless all at once, people's feelings aren't tangible enough to be converted in to materialistic worth - that's why it's so important." 

She pauses for a moment, and Emil can't help but feel as though within a few sentences, she's grown so much older-

"Humans spend their whole lives chasing after it - everyone's convinced they know the right way to get there. But we're all Icarus in the end, aren't we? Either we fly too low because we've already lost hope, or our never-ending need for satisfaction spurs us to over-exert ourselves and plummet in to the nothing."

"I'll be content when I'm dead. People are never satisfied - nothing is ever completely enough for anyone, and I'm no different."

She smiles at him, not with sadness but rather with a slightly pained sense of knowing,

"But that's not true at all, is it Emil? If you would ever be satisfied with something like that you'd be long gone, don't you think? We all yearn for happiness in the end, but happiness can only be formed if we've had a sense of hopelessness, things only have worth because we say they do and we do so because we've seen so, so much worse."

She's applying the steri-strips now, giving him a sympathetic glance every now and then when she grazes against the open flesh.

"I won't ask you to stay, and I won't convince you that there's sure to be better out there; it's a cruel world - and it's not, too. The world isn't cruel and it isn't benevolent either - it just is. It exists and goes on and reforms over and over again - no version of it is the same and we will never see a single reincarnation of it again. And we all see it differently, too - my eyes will never see this place the way you see it, and isn't that enchanting? The idea that you and only you will see this world? Doesn't that make you want to stick around and see it for just a little longer? To postpone your decision to end it all, to postpone the one choice only you will be left unable to regret?"

"If there's no point in being alive then there's no point in being dead." 

"Is that what's kept you here so long?" She laughs, "I wouldn't be surprised, even if I think there's more to it than that." She wraps the bandage around his arm, tightening it a little before securing it with a medical tape of sorts.

"You know, despite what I said before - about not trying to convince you, I mean - I hope you stay, after all. I won't force you or anything but...If I had the choice between you staying, or leaving....I would always choose for you to stay," She seems younger now, eyes softer, more vulnerable, "Maybe that's selfish of me, but...I would. Always - every single time."

They say nothing for a while, minds whirling in stop motion thoughts, feelings jumbled in some limbo within their heads.

'But isn't that just the way humans are?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this was meant to be one chapter filled with a lot more but I've now split it in to two-three chapters instead because i typed a lot more than i thought i would aaaaaa anyways PLEASE COMMENT COMMENTS MAKE ME SO MOTIVATED I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND


	20. An Unfinished Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem that Emil doesn't particularly like and doesn't have the energy to finish nor finesse.
> 
> He wonders if that isn't a metaphor in itself
> 
> He wonders if that doesn't make it a masterpiece

and perhaps,  
the reason

 

the sky

opened

 

was not because they asked -  
but rather  
because   
the sky never  
listened  
and would never  
answer

 

and so,  
they found

(both the sky and the people)

that their actions were not  
for nought

and neither were they futile  
nor useless  
at all

but rather, (burnt down to)  
the reality  
in which they had found

they never had a choice

(no choice at all)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and probably makes little sense - mostly serves as a segway of sorts that might make more sense later on (or not depending on how/if i work in specific themes)


	21. What Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil doesn't understand  
> He doesn't know if Leon does either

It's another day in the old science lab, another day where Emil bares his wounds and vulnerabilities to her. It's no different than usual, for now. He's rolled up his sleeves already, and Lili's pottering around, digging out the disinfectant from the depths of her seemingly endless bag. It's okay like this, he thinks – maybe it's okay to wait on telling anyone for a little while longer, okay to bask in the security he finds in Lili for the time being – surely that can be allowed?

The door opens and Emil turns, surprised, quickly tugging at his sleeves to cover the wounds.

To his surprise, it's Leon who's standing in the doorway-

His expression tells Emil that his sleeves didn't cover his arm fast enough:

“Em what are you- What are you doing?”

“I- Nothing, I just-” He freezes, classic 'deer in the headlights',

“What do you mean 'nothing'? This isn't nothing! What even-”

“That's enough now, Leon,” Lili interjects – for a moment, Emil had forgotten she was even there, and a wave of relief floods through him

"You knew?!"

"Yes, I did," she shoots back, voice still collected and calm, "That's why I'm here, treating his cuts. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe tell someone who actually knows what they're doing?" He glares at her accusingly, "We're kids Lili, not medical professionals!"

"I never claimed to be one; I'm not saying that this is ideal Leon, but as of now, he-" she gestures to Emil, "Has said he's not comfortable telling anyone about it. If he changes his mind, then of course I'll support it - but as of now I will make the best of how much he has already opened up to me; I refuse to betray his trust by disrespecting his wishes."

His anger is subdued - certainly not quelled, and Emil can tell he isn't satisfied with her response - but he's calmer, and the iron grip on his arm loosens, dropping so Leon's hand is curled around Emil's wrist, half over his hand. Lili eyes their linked hands curiously, and half a smile plays across her lips as she finishes unpacking her makeshift medical kit.

"Now that that's dealt with, can I finally check up on your cuts, Emil? My lesson starts soon, you know."

"Oh-" He's brought back to reality again, and he's about to roll up his other sleeve when he realizes that Leon is still holding on to him, and it takes a few moments of awkward fumbling and eye contact for Emil to realize that he had no intention of letting go.

"Show me how," Leon asks Lili pointedly, his hand squeezing Emil's lightly, "Show me how to treat it. Now that I know about it I might as well know how to do that to - you can't always be there, after all."

She smiles warmly,

"I'd be glad to, though only if Emil's okay with it," she gives him a reassuring look, encouraging him silently.

"I- I'm not sure..I don't want to cause more trouble - you..you shouldn't need to put in that sort of effort for me," He trails off quietly, keenly aware of them both looking at him, "I don't know-"

"Well how about you see it this way, if this so called 'work load' is spread across two people then it'll be less trouble for everyone involved, don't you think?"

"I guess.."

"Then it's decided!" She claps her hands together and beckons them over to the table, "I'll show you how to do some basic things and you can keep some of the supplies, okay? I only have one disinfect bottle for now, but I can buy another,"

"Nah it's cool, I'll get my own."

(Emil quietly protests that if anyone should be buying these things it should be him, but is quickly shushed in to hushed grumbles)

"C'mon Em," Leon grins and gives Emil's hand one last squeeze before lightly directing him over to Lili.

He's surprisingly gentle, Emil finds, and oddly sweet when he's serious -  deeply concentrated and adamant on perfecting even the minor detail: were the bandages too tight? Plasters the right size? Too much or too little disinfectant? Its a little embarrassing, he finds, and unconsciously hunches over, using his free hand to hide his face by pulling up the neck of his jumper.

A few minutes later and they're done, packed up and ready to go. There's little fuss, and after a few quick goodbyes and see-you-laters they separate once more.

 

Neither of them see Leon again that day - Emil blames himself.

 

He's surprised to get a text from Leon that evening - a simple 'Hey' that leads to the usual 'how are you' and 'what are you up to' all the way to the unexpected:

"You wanna come round to hang out tomorrow?"

Its a little bizarre, to hear that question - it's been a long time since Emil's done anything like that.

He types out a placid "maybe", only to delete it and think a while longer.

The end result, is a tentative yes, the request for an address and a bundle of nerves forming in his mind.

 

Leon's home is comfortable, but busy – similar to Emil's by description, but little else. Leon's room is nice, Emil thinks, it's not too big, and surprisingly simple given his usually quite distinct demeanor. There's a simple desk, bed a few beanbags huddled together in front of a TV and various consoles. All in all, it has a modern, sleek yet soothing feel to it. It's today, that he finds that Leon has an even larger family than him – seven brothers and two sisters, three of which Emil was introduced to in turn (Mei, Kiku and Yong Soo, the latter of which he had met before, of course, and the former he recognized from various shared classes), as for the others, Leon said they were “unimportant” and that it didn't matter since he “probably wasn't going to meet them”. Emil accepts this as it is. He does, however, question Leon on Yao a bit, as he seems different somehow, is a little confusing and also refers to Leon as “Xiao Chun” (his birth name) as opposed to what Emil knows him as, something that Leon seems very happy to ignore as much as possible.

“He's the closest thing to a Dad any of us really have,” he explains on the side as they play video games, “We're dysfunctional as all hell but we make it work for the most part.”

“And your name?” Emil asks, curiously “None of the others have second names, why is that different for you?” Leon hums to himself thoughtfully, taking a moment to beat the level before handing the controller over to the other,

“There was a time where things...Didn't work out. It was complicated, like, financial issues, lots of arguments 'nd all that,” he pushes Emil in the right direction in-game before continuing, “I was pretty young at the time and got sent to my godfather-ish person instead – as much as Yao didn't want to do it, or admit that he like, needed help at all, he couldn't handle having all of us around. That guy gave me a new name and I just like it better, y'know; it's annoying when everyone constantly mispronounces it and Leon sounds way cooler.”

“Are you angry at Yao for that? Sending you away I mean.”

“What? Mm, I dunno. It's all in the past now so it's not like it matters”

“I guess so.” Something about his response nags at Emil, but he doesn't see the sense in pushing it further, so he stops. They continue to play on, grinding experience and levelling up with little conversation in between, settled in to a comfortable silence till after the end of a particularly draining boss battle. 

“Can I..See your scars again?”

Leon is flopped back on to his beanbag, arms laying by his sides, head facing the ceiling – but his eyes? They're trained on you.

“What?”

“Your cuts 'nd scars 'n stuff. If that's, like, okay I mean.”

“I mean..It's fine, but why would you want that?”

“I don't know. Just feel like I need to confirm something for myself.”

“Like what?”

“I'm..not really sure, okay,” he seems frustrated somehow – you can't understand why, “It's just important.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Does it have to?”

“No, I guess not.”

Hesitantly, you take off your hoodie, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that begins to pool in your chest. You're not sure how to go about it, really, so you awkwardly stick your arm out for him, he's the one who asked, so he should decide how it's best to go about it, after all.

His fingertips ghost across your arms , tracing across each and every callus that runs in parallel train track lines, back and forth back and forth across your skin – over and over and over. His hand trails upwards, brushing against the faded lines of white that litter your upper arm and shoulders, a year has past at least since the blades last touched you there, but scars remain just like everywhere else on your body. His touch wavers for a moment, pulling away almost reluctantly – but his eyes still linger, troubled eyes scrutinizing them – or perhaps scrutinizing you? You can't tell the difference, in the end, and it leaves you torn.

 

He asks you if there are more, more scars that your clothing usually covers, and you fidget a little, squirming as you pull at the hem of your shirt – to show or not to show?

 

The look of unease in his eyes – and, of course its his eyes, because it's Leon and there's always been something about his eyes, dammit – leaves you with no choice and so you respond with nothing but the truth. You say that yes, there are more, and that it's easier if you just take your shirt off – he nods a few seconds before processing what you've said, and seems a little unnerved when you do, your hands gripping at the fabric of your t-shirt that now lies crumpled in your lap, as if clawing at it once its already off will make you any less exposed. It's a heavy silence that you're left in – you don't meet his eyes, or flinch when he finally does reach out to touch you again, toes curling as you find it harder and harder to breath, feeling as though your lips have dried up to the point where you cannot open them, and every in- and exhale feels too loud, too disruptive that you would allow yourself to ease the need that fills your empty lungs.

 

The places where he touches him burn for a moment, and he agonizes over it till Leon looks at him again, as if asking for reassurance.

(He has to bite back a smile when he sees his face, something pitifully, painfully satisfying about the others troubled expression)

 

The fire dims for a moment, till it flares up all over again, and Emil is lost.

 

It's when Leon's fingers lie on his collarbone, that Emil becomes unsure on what this even is anymore. He jitters for a moment, biting his lip uncertainly and Leon's eyes shoot up to meet his immediately,

 

“You okay?”

 

-His voice is lower than he'd expected, and the look in his eyes catches Emil off guard for a moment. His voice feels as though it's stuck in the back of his throat-

 

“..Y..Yeah. I'm fine,” he seems unconvinced, brows furrowing in silent suspicion – Emil swallows and looks away, “I'm just..Sensitive around there. Neck too. That's all” He trails off, and they are left in silence again. He seems to contemplate this for a while, fingers not leaving their previous place as he does, then – as if by instinct – he moves a little closer, hand reaching to brush against the side of your neck and – despite yourself – you tremble, shivers rushing through your body. Something about this intrigues him, you can't understand why, or what it could be that motivates him – at least not in the moment – but he continues anyway, tracing along your jawline, your chin, hesitating just by your lips-

 

There's a knock at the door and they scramble, both torn out of whatever trance they were under - the atmosphere is broken, you can finally breathe again and the heat in the room is painfully clear. It's only Mei, at the door, telling them to come downstairs for dinner: and she's none the wiser when she curiously peeks through the space in the doorway that Leon doesn't quite cover - Emil's already dressed again, t-shirt, hoodie and all.

In the few seconds he has to himself as Leon irritably tries to shoo her away, he can't help but feel equally lost - still adrift on the waves of whatever that had been.

Leon turns to him, and for a second his face is vulnerable: a little awkward, flushed and insecure - but then it's gone again, back to the usual monotone that Emil imitates, after all, how else are you supposed to address moments like these?

"Let's go," he says casually, quietly, and the softness that lingers in his voice surprises him.

(The look in his eyes never seems to leave, even during the weeks that follow this)

After dinner, there's a knock on the door and a slightly impatient Lukas behind it - soon after, Emil is home again, as if nothing ever happened.

(Nothing at all)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was over 2200 words long pls appreciate


	22. The Second Diary Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He writes rules for himself because the world is full of them: unwritten, unspoken - firm yet formless, clear-cut yet contextual and questionable at the best of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel an author's note at the end might ruin the effect of this chapter, so I'm putting it here instead.
> 
> I apologise for the lack of plot in this chapter, I had planned on putting in more but felt this was necessary to get out of my system first aha. I've put a lot of thought in to this, lots of big thoughts in here so I'd really love to here if anyone has any sort of response to this - perhaps your own rule, your own thoughts, anything!

(Another loose sheet from his collection, a coverless diary made up of torn out pages, strewn across his world by way of paper airplane)

Things to live by:

• Things are the way that they are, except for when they're not

(Because the world is built up upon contradictions: back and forth, back and forth, exception after exception filled with the self-assured heat that  
comes with each new decision we make)

• You will be hurt in life, over and over - and you will hurt others, too. There is no way around this; we can only hope to heal and help as much as we can

(He's done a lot of hurting in his lifetime - and he's hurt those around him too. We are preordained to hurt: predetermined to receive and return hurt - less an act of give and take but more one of transfer, reshaping and reforming suffering, over and over, no different than the typical act of exchanging energy)

• The world exists in cycles

(Therefore we are finite - it is only through the recognised existence of these cycles that we have these broken circles - unfinished circuit after circuit that humanity can never hope to complete, only to  
prolong the end of. Only through these can we close our minds to a thought: ashes to ashes, dust to dust, symbolic of our unfinished selves that never truly stop, but rather take unseen steps forward along the untrodden path)

• And as such, everything is repeated and no-one really changes

(People cannot change. Instead, we build upon ourselves throughout our lives, our thoughts and feelings serving as the building blocks towards our ever growing aspirations - it's a far way to look  
down and see where you began when you're so high up. 

But perhaps this is not an apt comparison - maybe we are more like russian dolls, encasing our true selves in layers of make-believe and scripted roles, waiting for someone to pull us apart, already knowing what and who we are inside.

Or maybe we are human - too complex and contradictory to simplify with basic metaphors and similes, good and bad switching back and forth as the lines seem to blur entirely in the eyes of man.)

• Your phone camera will never capture the night sky as beautifully as your eyes can see it

(And it's disappointing everytime)

• The ability to "want" is more important than you'll ever know

(But you find yourself trying anyway - pulling out your phone at 3am to take hazy pictures of a pale white dot in the sky a million times over)

• Time heals all wounds

(And there's a million 'but's and 'however's here that he leaves unsaid)

• But healing also takes work, no matter how unjust that workload might be

(With the exception of one, scrawled in cursive across the paper)

• Your innermost self cannot be evil 

(Or so he believes - and maybe he's right. Maybe it is that most fragile self that cannot be good, or bad, simply because of its vulnerability. Fueled not by logic or thought but by feeling alone, physical and passionate in nature and in ways that cannot be cruel - they only wish to be happy, and true happiness cannot be born from sickness

He believes he would be unable to cope if the truth were anything other than that)

• True understanding, both in mind and in soul aids all

(Whilst hurt must exist so that we can experience pleasure, it does not mean that suffering is justified. It exists because that's how the world works, nothing more and nothing less. The thunderous earthquakes that shake our world do not exist because we are deserving of punishment, nor is it the case that we have no influence - it is the product of a thousand and one factors that pile up, up and up till they come tumbling down to conclusion. The tower will fall - it always does - we can only hope that we do not lie in its path so that we may rebuild it all over again, in hopes of a happy ending that may never come.)

• Be wary with romanticism

(It can make the world seem so simple, can distract from hardship even when pointing out the reality - through it, tragedy becomes the most desirable beauty of all. I'm doing it right now, as you read this - Emil's own world has become my colouring book, watercolour words painted over his monochrome pages in hopes of 'something'. 

Maybe that 'something' is educating you, the reader, somehow. Perhaps I wish to widen your world view, or even constrain you to the perspective of just one for a moment, to allow you to see with someone else's eyes. Maybe I do it in hopes that you will understand me - that I will find someone who (even if it's just for a moment) can share my world. Or maybe, I do it so I can understand 'you' a little better? 

There's no way to know.

Maybe I write, simply because I do - because in the end, what does it matter? Whatever the reason, if the words do not take shape, you will not read - not because you don't want to, but because you cannot. Even if I put pen to paper, you may never know; fully written chapters may lay unread for days, months, years for all you know, and you will be none the wiser unless I tell you (and even then I could be lying).

Even now, I am romanticising. And is it so wrong? To want to turn sorrow to serenity through poetic paragraphs that simplify all hurtful matters?

Ultimately, there is no right or wrong. I don't believe it exists, personally, though I wonder about it back and forth in my head.

In the same way that I think about myself and why I write, I often think of you: of your thoughts, and why you read - why this? - and sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder if your reason is just as romanticised as mine.)

• No man's happiness is the same

(We all chase after it, desperately, desperately. Yet we seem to thrive on sorrow - happiness is so hard to write about, so hard to put in to words. Perhaps it is because with happiness comes satisfaction, and with that we lose the need to express and share. But that cannot be true - happy people still paint, and draw, and write and read and create all manner of things. Maybe the pained voices are simply louder, wanting to prove their misery over and over in hopes that it will change something, someone, somewhere.)

•The balance between you and me, is so, so fragile

(The feelings of one are complicated. 

The thoughts and feelings of many are a little bit like strings brushing past one another, tangling, fraying, tearing.

And as much as we preach and praise the idea of being true to yourself, there are rules and conditions that come with being a part of society. Many of these rules are naturally tied in to our human nature - do not kill, do not steal - though naturally, these rules are broken over and over, in the name of all manner of causes. However, many of these rules are much less tangible, less clear than those listed above. 

And this, of course, confuses Emil beyond everything.)

•"All is fair in love and war"

(Because in times like those, the idea of right and wrong is forgettable.)

• You will fall in love a million times over with this world, and the people within it

(All he wants is happiness for himself and those around him.

Yet this ends up counting for every single person he meets - he makes himself personally responsible for the satisfaction of each individual that crosses his path. Because self-preservation and self-sacrifice are equal yet imbalanced, because hurting others terrifies him out of fear of what he could do.

And I am the same - of course, that is why I have written Emil this way - I too fear the moment that I push past the unseen boundary of "too much". Because there is no way to know when a person will be pushed too far.

I cannot protect everybody. 

I cannot quell all their worries or heal all their wounds.

I cannot be responsible for everyone - I shouldn't have to be, and no one but myself is asking me to.

But where do you draw the line? Where do you choose to protect yourself at the expense of others? 

Without purpose, or reason we are useless.

If there is nothing he is "supposed" to do, he won't do anything at all.)

•There is no answer

(And this is what he fears most.

And this is why he will not address Leon, or the feelings that linger between them. Perhaps if he is asked, he will answer - but that puts it up to the other to ask, and that isn't fair, either. 

They've tangled themselves up in one another, heartstrings entwined, enamored - and this too, makes Emil afraid. 

Because if he moves, he could end up tearing them apart completely.

Because if he moves, they could end up woven together, instead.)


	23. Highscore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His grip on Emil's hand is stronger than his own; and yet still they hold on, unwavering despite their differences.
> 
> He’s never had to deal with something like this. Never before has he found himself feeling anything close to this: heat, fear, warmth and then fire again, lighting up and burning out in ceaseless succession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over 2000 words long my chapters are actually consistently longer lately r u guys proud of me god I hope ppl actually like this

The changes between them had always been subtle: this time it was unmistakable, even to outsider’s. Coming in to school the next day had been hard, to say the least - what to say, what to mention, what to forget and what to ignore? It wasn’t something you could just ask about, after all.

‘You nearly kissed me that evening. You saw such a vulnerable ugly ‘me’ and yet still you nearly kissed me. Why?’

Of course, Leon doesn’t quite understand it himself - they’re both immature with their feelings, overthinking and over-rationalising themselves when challenged with their own emotion. And who can blame them, for not wanting to come to a conclusion when they only have half the story? A relationship is, by definition, not the ideas of one but the interaction of many, after all. The ambiguity seems to eat up at them, frustrating each of them to no end.

(They’d have it no other way)

The undertones between them are tangible, even if their words seem the same - conversations play out no differently than usual between them and yet-

‘You haven’t touched me since that day, not even to pass me a pencil’

‘You’ve been giving off such strange feelings, and I feel strange, too - so I get scared and jumpy and afraid whenever you’re around’

‘But you haven’t done anything wrong so it must be my fault since both of us are feeling so wrong’

‘What can I do to fix this? Please, tell me how’

‘I don’t want to be afraid of you’

(Yet he fears him most)

(Yet neither of them have hurt one another - not through actions nor through their words)

(Yet still-)

Their pain comes from such a confusing place - uncertain, insecure - neither wants this, neither knows how to change or how to build from the ground up. Our towers are built by our surroundings, the influences of others shaping the bricks that support us - yet where to begin on a tower built by as little as two? They have no choice but to use their own building blocks; dismantling the spires and arches within themselves to construct a shaky foundation - wobbling and swaying in the winds of this new change.

 

It’s again that Leon's messages break the silence between them - another invitation (something that makes Emil wonder if that is perhaps his way of clearing the air, an act of peacekeeping that he learnt some time in his life). There's a contradictory reluctance to accept, as always - a want to meet, a want to isolate, to go or not to go-- a lingering feeling of uneasiness remains regardless of the choice he makes. Realistically however, there's only one option he'd be willing to pick. Of course, he could say no, but the stagnating regret of doing nothing at all would hurt more than the fear he forces himself to face by saying yes.

If it were anyone else, an invitation like this to simply meet up in town would've seemed 'normal’ - still a large step to take in the eyes of anxiety-fueled Emil, who finds stepping out of his room an ordeal worth feeling nauseous over.

Begrudgingly, he accepts - anxious, anticipating, awaiting.

 

The feeling doesn’t go away, of course, and his mind is still reeling on what this day will turn out to be even as he waits at their pre-arranged meeting spot. It's not that he's not thought that this might be a date - he just can't allow himself the thought that it might be true. After all, they were...friends. Or, at least, something like that. He doesn’t know what they are anymore, though - come to think of it - he never has. Somehow, their relationship has never seemed platonic - that’s not to say that there was some bizarre attraction right away, it was just….weird. He doesn’t know how to explain it - he’s still grappling with whatever his current feelings are, and his previous ones aren’t any less confusing. He tries comparing his and Leon’s connection with his and Lili’s - even Michelle or Matthew - but the inexplicable barrier of something remains. 

(Perhaps that something is simply a single feeling, a thought spurred on by something or another that refuses to grow in to a simple friendship, disallowing the chance for a platonic connection between the two of them) 

His mind is finally distracted from his worrying thoughts when Leon arrives, something that naturally catches him off guard at first, especially since he’s dressed in his own clothes as opposed to the plain school uniform that Emil is used to seeing him in.

"Oh my god-" He finds himself exclaiming in greeting, covering his face with his hands.

Leon gives Emil a look in return, confused by the other’s reaction - had he done something wrong? Was he late or something?

"Wow okay, hello to you too. What is it?”

"Leon!" He presses out, biting back a laugh.

"What?"

"You look like a fuckboy. Oh my god, you dress like a fuckboy outside of school I'm so disappointed in you right now."

"Excuse me? What do you mean I 'look like' a fuckboy I'll have you know I am a fuckboy!" 

"You're a- Leon don't lie to me: you're a big nerd, I've seen your room so you can't fool me!"

He’s distraught.

“What’s wrong with my room? And the way I dress is great, thank you very much.” He’s not overly serious of course (neither of them are) - it’s just light banter that they’re both relieved to resume especially in light of what happened between them. They begin walking across the road and Leon turns to give Emil an accusing look, “You just don’t know fashion, Emmy. In fact, I think we should buy you some clothes right now.”

The other’s grin fades quickly,

“We should what now?”

“Buy you some clothes Emmy dearest!”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea…”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, let’s do it now,” And with that, Leon abruptly grabs Emil’s wrist and drags him in to the closest store.

 

Emil is (and he knows this definitively now) absolutely not the type for shopping.

As much as he criticises and fusses over his appearance and body in his head, there’s a big difference between fashion, distinct taste and - the part that applies to Emil - rampant self-hatred. Leon, in contrast, seems to have a very clear idea of what he wants and how - able to identify everything from specific brands to cuts to materials, something that seems incomprehensible to the other. To some degree, he wants to dress well - maintain some sort of external image or aesthetic, but it’s something difficult to start, especially when it’s so much easier to just wear the same old outfits over and over. Staying trapped within his comfort zone is, as always, something that he finds both amiable and irksome; there’s nothing inherently wrong with the clothing he wears, but he can’t help but want something just a little more…’put together’? Perhaps it’s his unknowing approach that holds him back - he doesn’t know what he wants - all he has is an uneasy awareness that what he wants isn’t this.

So naturally, when offered the chance to grow and move beyond his frustrating state of mind, his immediate response is to have an internal meltdown.

Again, it’s not that he doesn’t want to - rather, it’s because it’s something of such consequential influence to him that he finds himself panicking like this. 

(He wasn’t prepared, after all.

He wasn’t told that this was coming.

How was he supposed to get ready for this?

What if he does it wrong? It’s expected that he has opinions and thoughts and feelings on these things and he can’t deal with that. And he has a body - such a dreadful, horrid body - that Leon might have to see for this to work properly. And what if he’s hopeless? What if none of the clothes suit him and of course that’s all his fault and and and and and and and and and and and and and-)

(His list of fears is endless)

(How unreasonable)

 

He’s not sure if the current situation is better or worse than what he imagined - another unanticipated whim of Leon’s sending him into a cramped changing room stall to try on an outfit that Emil’s almost certain he can’t pull off. It’s not that it’s ridiculously extravagant (Leon’s not heartless, after all, and takes mercy on this poor, unfashionable boy), but it just feels foreign - a crisp white shirt along with bluish jeans that seem to be cut so they end above his ankles (something he finds strange) finally paired with a pale pink cardigan of sorts and converse. 

(He can’t stand seeing himself in the mirror, and a good half of his time in the changing room is forcing himself to breathe and remember how to open his eyes without wanting to throw up)

“Finally!” Leon exclaims when Emil eventually steps out, (he’s stiff and unused to this sort of feeling, self-conscious and self-deprecating simultaneously, surprised by the underlying want for validation, a strange desire to impress the other somehow that he swiftly blocks out), “I thought you’d never come out, geez..”

(Emil has to bite back a grin as the compulsion to make some sort of inane comment on his sexuality or otherwise, but now was not, nor would it ever be, the time)

“Sorry,” he mumbles, biting his lip.

“So- What do you think?” He asks, giving Emil the up-and-down, “I'm pretty proud of my choices, if I do say so myself.”

“What do...I think?” He gives himself a quick glance in the opposite mirror before looking away again, “I'm..not really sure. I'm not used to this sort of thing..” He trails off awkwardly, “I mean..Do you think it looks okay? You're the fashion enthusiast out of the two of us, after all.”

“I think it looks good!” He briefly grins encouragingly, “Plus I picked it out with you in mind, although if you're not comfortable in it…”

“-N-no! It's not like I hate it I'm just…” He frowns and chews at his lip, “I’d like to try something new I just don't really know how and-” Cutting himself off shyly, he fidgets uncomfortably. 

“That's adorable-” He gives him a quick look as if daring him to disagree (Emil keeps his mouth shut), “In that case, why not just wear this out today? You can, like, do a test run and then at the end of the day we can just return it if you don't like it.”

“Oh…” He thinks for a moment, slowly warming up to the idea, “Yeah, okay. I guess I can do that..”

“Of course you can, now come on let's go already!”

“We’re going? Already? Where?”

“Hmm…You'll see-”

(He's whisked up in his whims once more, purposeful spontaneity overwhelming him in an instant)

(Despite himself, he smiles)

 

The lights of the arcade dazzle and gleam, a bright glare of neon glowsticks cracking to life before their eyes as they push open the door. There’s a blaring fanfare of beeping, whirring, shrill noises coming from the machines, soundtracks and SFX from all manner of games resounding simultaneously in cacophonic roar. Leon chuckles slightly at Emil’s stunned look, 

“Never been to this sort of place before, huh?” he asks, grinning.

“No..” he responds, both taken aback by the sudden wave of sensory stimuli and in awe of the technicolour blur that lies before him, “Not in a long time,”

“Good,” he grabs Emil’s wrist and drags him to one of the nearby consoles, “‘Cause I’m planning on making this memorable.”

 

It’s no surprise that Leon is skilled - he seems to have an innate talent for all manner of games, both in the arcade and the console based games he has at home. He seems intent on showing Emil every game in the building, having a supposedly endless amount of tokens and money that he was more than willing to blow, (as well as keeping up a steady flow of conversation in between, in which he learns that Leon is occasionally inclined to wear nail polish). The outcome is, unsurprisingly, a very tired Emil, a ridiculous amount of tickets waiting to be exchanged and a ragtag collection of various prizes - their hard-earned trophies. Somehow, Leon still has energy left over, hogging one of the generic dance machines in the back of the building: Emil isn’t sure how the other does it, given that his eyes can barely follow the arrows on screen properly and yet he still racks up high scores, finally finishing with a satisfied (but worn out) exclamation of victory, tastefully inputting his name as “ASS” on the leaderboard next to a glowing golden number one.

“Real mature Leon.” He comments dryly, handing him the stuff he’d been holding whilst the other was preoccupied, “I’m blown away, really.”

“Aww thanks babe!” He responds with the sort of overdone sweetness that Emil knows is laced with sarcasm. “Really though, thanks for holding my stuff Ems”

“Emil. It’s Emil. And no problem, did you still wanna exchange the tickets?”

Apparently having something specific in mind, Leon sends him to wait outside. It doesn't take long before he comes out too, handing Emil a fluffy toy tiger.

“A memento of the, like, first time we hung out.”

Unsure of how to take it, Emil thanks him quietly, holding it to his chest,

“Didn't you want anything though? I feel bad if it's just me..”

“Nah, I wanted to get you something - besides, that sort of thing suits you better.”

(He smiles) 

“You ready to go?”

The tingling warmth is back again, bubbling in his chest, though laced with a tang of sadness - he was exhausted, and yet-

“Yeah,” he smiles slightly, face reddening for no reason at all, “Today was fun. Really.” He doesn't know what else to say, too awkward for his own good. “Thank you.”

 

(They take the bus home together and walk half the way)

(Their goodbyes linger for just a little too long to be friendly)


	24. Matthew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the month long break, I've not been doing too great mentally and I've found myself more motivated to work on a mixture of personal stories and chapters of A.C.S.O.L that won't be making an appearance for a good two or three more yet. Nonetheless, I hope this chapter is enjoyable all the same (finally some character development between these two! I've been hoping to get it in for a while). There's also one or two questions at the end regarding how A.C.S.O.L will continue, so if you could possibly answer those in the comments that would be swell.

The rest of the weekend finishes smoothly, spent lazing about and doing as little as possible. It’s a strange sort of “okay” that he’s settled in - any afterthoughts from his meeting with Leon are placid, not threatening: his mind surprisingly calm given the pile of unanswered questions floating around the two of them.

Monday rolls around once more and the school day passes surprisingly quickly - it feels like no time at all and it’s already lunchtime: Matthew and Emil had organised to meet during the previous breaktime, what with both Michelle and Lili being absent, and Leon and Yong Soo keeping to themselves for the day. It’s rare, but not unheard of, for it to just be the two of them - they have a specific patch of grass in the field that they’ve unofficially deemed their ‘lunch spot’ and always seem to end up at when it’s just the two of them. Emil is sometimes surprised by how much Matthew talks (especially given his usually quiet demeanour), but he talks about interesting things, and Matthew is happy with a few quiet words from Emil in response if nothing else. It’s a pleasant routine that they both find sympathetic: slowly, slowly, he’s noticed himself feeling more at ease around Matthew, more at home, and he welcomes it, cautiously.

They’re unfortunately torn away from their quiet conversation when a sudden shout distracts them,a loud and blaring voice tearing in to their peaceful exchange:

“Mattie! Bro, there you are - I’ve been looking for you everywhere- Hold up a minute, I know you! You’re Emil, right? I haven’t seen you in ages, where’ve you been?” Hearing his name mentioned, Emil looks up to see Alfred - someone he hadn’t seen in at least a year - grinning down at him,

“Oh- Uh, hi. Sorry, I was..Ill, sort of,” They hadn’t been close or anything along those lines, just happened to have a lot of joint classes and somehow ended up sitting next to each other - nothing special, “Sorry for just disappearing out of nowhere.” He feels a little guilty, really. His attendance had never exactly been something to brag about, but one day he didn’t come in, then a week passed, then another, and another-

“Nah-” Alfred laughs loudly, “It’s not something you can help, so don’t worry about it-”

The conversation trails off as Alfred gets distracted by some friends of his passing by, turning back to the two of them when Matthew clears his throat to get the other’s attention,

“So, what did you want Alfred?”

“Oh- Right! D’you have your history textbook on you? I left mine at home and I really, really need it for next lesson or teacher’s gonna kill me- Pleeaase-” He begs, giving Matthew his best attempt at puppy eyes, who looks back at his twin uneasily for a while before sighing and reaching for his bag,

“Fine,” he grumbles, handing Alfred the book, “But only this once, okay - and you better take care of it or I’ll-”

“Thanks so much bro!! You’re the best-” The bell rings and Alfred shoves the book in his bag, “I gotta go now, don’t wanna be late - really though, it’s neat seeing you again Emil, we should definitely hang out sometime! Take care of Mattie for me, see ya!”

Neither of them have a lesson next, so they both stay seated.

“So you’re uh..Friends with Alfred?” Matthew asks, “I’m surprised you never mentioned it - usually people mix us up, think I’m him. Not so much the other way round, though.”

“Oh, well we were never really close so I never really saw a point in bringing it up - hell, at first I wasn’t even sure if you were related since you two act so different. We just talked every once in a while during class since we shared a desk - I didn’t think he’d remember me or anything like that, especially after so long.”

“You didn’t think we were related?” Matthew asks in disbelief, “Everyone always thinks I’m him.”

“Well, yeah, I guess you do look pretty similar - I haven’t exactly compared you two - but I didn’t even know that he had a twin. He mentioned you once or twice but he just said you were his brother so I didn’t exactly have a way of knowing.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as rude or anything like that,” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m just so used to being known as his lookalike, ‘that guy who looks like Alfred’ or ‘his twin’. I don’t exactly have much of a presence, so unless I’m with Alfred it’s like I’m nobody at all. He’s always the one with friends, with the parties, popular and strong and just...everything I’m not.” He sends Emil an apologetic grin, wiping the lenses of his glasses against his shirt to clean them.

“Your relationship with your brother seems..complicated.” He feels as though he should say something, anything, that might heal or help or fix - if someone brings him something broken, then shouldn’t he repair it? It’s a bizarre compulsion of his, in which he takes responsibility over each and every problem presented to him, even if he has no means of fixing it.

“You could say that,” Matthew sighs again, putting his glasses back on his face, “I just can’t match him - everything he does is so big and extreme and- I just can’t compare to that, not like this. I just get outshone and outdone and even when I manage to do something I can really say that I’m proud of he’s already taken up so much space that there’s none left for me. I don’t know. I’m really sorry for talking like this, I probably sound like a huge downer right now.”

“No no, it’s fine. But, you’re your own person at the end of the day, you that right? Even if people compare you to him, or don’t pay attention to you. I don’t think it’s fair on you, but I don’t know if people will change so easily, and that hurts. But you shouldn’t bring yourself down just because other people don’t recognise you, either.”

“I just sometimes feel like I could disappear and no-one would even notice, y’know?” Matthew laughs, but it’s forced - there is no joy, “I think if just one person recognised me for who I am, and how I am or just- I’m not really sure what I’m saying at this point, honestly..Maybe I’m just being selfish - I have you and Lili and Leon and Michelle and even Yong Soo - that should be enough for me, but somehow…” He trails off, frustrated with himself and the world.

“I don’t think that’s selfish. I’m not really good at giving advice, or comforting people but..I don’t think that’s selfish,” Emil pauses, thinking and rethinking his words before saying them aloud, “Everyone wants to be recognised, I think. We all...Want to be seen. But we want to be noticed too. But not just for being there - we want to be seen and noticed and acknowledged and recognised for everything that we are, at once. And- And we want to be able to feel that- Like in a sort of, uh, real way, I suppose. We want that recognition to mean something to us, within our hearts, I guess. That’s not to say that you don’t really care about the people around you already, or anything like that it’s more..Well I guess it’s sort of like when people say that something ‘strikes a chord’, you know? I’m not sure if this really makes sense, or if it helps.” He finishes a little clumsily, running his fingers through his hair awkwardly.

It takes a little time to process, of course (it always does), and Emil quietly fidgets as he waits for Matthew to respond with anything at all. 

“Oh…” It’s a near-silent indication of sound, and he’s about to apologise when Matthew opens his mouth again, thoughtful expression on his face, “No, no - it makes sense, don’t worry, I just-” He laughs again, this time weighted less with hurt, “It’s all so confusing and frustrating, and I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to change or if everyone else does or- I just don’t know, I guess. I’m glad I got to talk to you about it though, thanks Emil, really.”

The tension in the air - though it had been by no means suffocating - dississapates, and they both exchange cautious smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few questions I have for you guys:
> 
> 1)Do you feel I'm focusing on the aspect of romance and interpersonal relationships too much at the moment, should I continue as I am or focus more on family relationships and Emil's mental health
> 
> 2) Do you prefer longer or shorter chapters? I've been writing longer ones lately (between 1000-2000 words per chapter) but my update schedules stayed the same either way so I don't have much of a preference beyond being able to fit in everything I want to.
> 
> 3)Any criticisms/things to change or continue?


	25. Dialogue Cues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that such a bad thing to want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very dialogue-heavy chapter, apologies: I'm no good at writing this sort of thing but at least I've gotten some practice with this? Please do tell me your thoughts - I didn't do much proofreading on this chapter, so I'm a little wary that the dialogue might be unnatural or just confusing haha.

The seats in the clinic are always uncomfortable. No matter which room they go to, no matter how he sits the fabric seems to scratch at his skin, yet give way to easily: it makes him feel like he's sinking, as if being swallowed whole. It's the second of his bi-weekly sessions, and he's already far too agitated to want to speak to Ivan about anything, let alone himself.

"You seem on edge today, any particular reason for that?"

(Of course he would point it out, annoyingly observant, yet painfully predictable in doing so)

"I suppose-" he just wants to go home already, he's already endured a good half hour, maybe more, "It's not exactly anything new."

"Well you're right there!" Ivan laughs lightly, though it sounds artificial and Emil feels sick again, "So, how've you been in regards to your... Self-destructive impulses, shall we say?"

(Shut up already)

He shrugs - he's not fully present again today (not that he ever is), detached and yet all too involved in this conversation.

"It's been okay I guess." He makes some vague hand motions, eyes never meeting his, "My eating has been a little better too, been going out more, sort of-"

"I didn't ask about that."

Emil bites the inside of his cheek.

(Get a grip)

"You're very good at diverting attention from uncomfortable conversations, aren't you Emil." Ivan's smile remains unchangingly bright and Emil grimaces, "You seem very adept."

"So I've been told."

"So you do do it often then! As I thought. How interesting."

"I suppose?" He furrows his brow impassively.

"You suppose?"

"It's normal to me, I guess. I do it all the time so it's not really 'interesting' to me"

"Hmm...You do it all the time? With everyone?"

"Sort of. Depends on what the conversation is about." He pauses, thinking of a better way to explain, "It's sort of like a flowchart: I think of potential options in a conversation, and which ones are best."

"So you manipulate the conversation in a way that makes things easiar for you?"

Emil frowns.

"I...guess? It's not as if I'm doing it out of bad will or because I'm disregarding other people. That's not to say it's completely okay though, either; it's just..a safety thing, I suppose." He fidgets a little, feeling sick all of a sudden, "So essentially, yes."

"You're like a little machine!" Ivan muses, scribbling something or another in to his notebook, "So where do you fit in to all of this?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Well it doesn't sound like there's much of you involved in conversation, it's like a little computer program." He pauses briefly, looking to Lukas for a moment curiously, "Doesn't seem like there's very much of an identity there, no feeling allowed. You've mentioned it before."

(Why look at Lukas? What did he matter right now?)

"Well, yeah. I've already said this. I don't let people in - I don't know how and I don't see much of a point in trying." He yawns, always finding himself inexplicably tired during these sessions, "Inner me would make a terrible conversation partner."

(Lukas' eyes bore in to him)

"What makes you say that? From what you've told me in the past you haven't exactly even given 'inner you' a chance."

"I have. Every once in a while I give it a go and inevitably it's tiring and frustrating and ends badly." He cuts Ivan off before he can begin speaking again, already having a pretty good idea of what he's going to say, "I know that persistence would make it easier, and that the longer you leave it the more practise you'll need to 'normalise' again, but that's not the point."

(It's the first time Lukas speaks that session, beyond the usual quiet greetings)

"Then what is the point? Why bother speaking at all if you're not even there?"

Emil turns to Lukas, glaring at him.

(Fire, burning, angry)

"The point is that people keep talking to me, keep fucking trying to get close to me when I hate myself too much to even look at myself. The point is that I'm too pathetic to just push them away because I'm an idiot, Lukas." He looks away again: he doesn't want to break down - not now, not here. "I can't even bring myself to just leave."

Silence. Ivan's eyes flit between the two brothers - his smile has faded but it doesn't take long before it returns.

"I hate to have to cut this short at a time like this, but I'm afraid it's time," They all collect themselves quietly, packing their things together and leaving the room.

(He hopes to leave his words in the room, hopes that those feelings and things he's said won't follow him out.)

(He knows it's never that simple.)

 

The air outside the clinic is cool, fresh and clean in contrast to the stench inside, yet it never quite seems to fill his lungs. They exchange no words on the way to the car, footsteps echoing on the pavement, mismatched and uneven. The sounds and sensations around him seem to blur together, black creeping in at the corner of his vision: he stares at his brother's back with apparent disinterest - punctured lungs refuse to inflate, chest barely rising and falling as he walks on and on.

(The car journey is silent, and it's only when he's halfway through the door that Lukas opens his mouth)

"Emil," He stops and turns to his brother - why can't he just let him get away like he usually does? "Can we talk?"

He sighs, already disliking the tone that this conversation seemed to be taking,

"About what?" And now, of course, he's stalling: hopeful despite the fact that he knows better, hopeful that Lukas might just drop it and let him be.

"About what you said, in therapy."

An expected response, for sure, but certainly not one he appreciates.

"What's there to talk about?"

(Can't you see that this conversation is unwanted? That you won't hear anything that would ever make you happy? Why bother?)

"What you said. About not getting help, not even wanting it."

(He presses on. He has to. Even if it means never speaking again.)

"And? What about it?" Curt, quiet, blunt: no room for thought, not now.

"Why? Why won't you let people - let us - help you?"

"I'm tired, Lukas." He tugs at his hair and lets out a ragged sigh, "I'm so tired of fighting to feel even slightly okay, to barely keep it together. I can't just 'try harder' when I'm already trying so stupidly hard to even keep myself here."

"But-"

"But nothing. I don't want any of this: I never wanted any of this - I just want everything to stop." He's shaking, and his fingernails have pressed painfully in to the palm of his hand, "I don't want anything anymore."

(How frustrating)

"You can't just run away from it all, you- You've got to face it or- Or you'll just keep going like this forever."

(So broken)

"Who says? Why should I waste so much energy and effort on me? I won't appreciate it. It won't bring me anything. Everyone keeps telling me to face myself but I don't want to I- I hate myself so fucking much and it's just..disgusting. I disgust myself, Lukas, and nothing you could say will say that."

(Just understand already)

"But I've been in your shoes before! I know what it's like, God, please just trust me I know how you feel and I just want to help you and-"

"I don't care if you know how I feel. It doesn't bring me anything. If I get stabbed in the chest and you tell me 'I've been stabbed before too, it's okay - I understand' then what does that bring me? I'll bleed out just as fast whether you understand me or not and I'll end up the same: dead."

(Cold)

"Don't say that."

(So cold)

"Don't say what?"

(Challenging)

"That you'll be dead. Don't say that, please. I don't want you to- I couldn't handle it if you- if you-" He can't say it. "Please don't go."

(Please)

"I don't want to be here anymore." He turns, leaves, "Please. I just don't want to be."

(He goes to his room)

(Lukas sinks to the floor)

(For the first time in years, the two of them burst into tears)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question to you readers as I'm struggling to decide: have Tino or Mathias interact more with Emil next chapter? Lukas and Berwald will be out of the picture as they'll be having some developments of their own together and meeting with his friends is not something Emil is up to at the moment. Basically: more development between Tino and Emil or Mathias and Emil? Please comment below!


	26. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lukas has his own issues, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to make this the beginning of an even longer chapter but I couldn't really see it working out so I'm splitting it in two :)

It’s not the first time the two of them come home to find Lukas like this: distraught, tearful - his hair’s a mess, shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned in odd places and he’s drunk on something - whether it’s alcohol or desperation alone, they can’t tell.

(They’d hoped the time before this would’ve been the last)

“I’ll go put the kids to bed,” Tino whispers softly, shushing Peter and Lars’ queries as he helps them take off their shoes and coats, ushering them upstairs as he sent Lukas a sympathetic look before pressing a kiss on Berwald’s cheek, “Look after him would you?” The other simply nods, giving Tino a meaningful look - a silent exchange - before taking off his coat, too, and kneeling down beside Lukas, who was huddled against the wall by the stairs. Tino overhears little more than indistinct mumbling, indecipherable even if he were standing right next to them - he doubts the sounds Lukas is making are even words. But that’s not the point after all - they mean something, and they all understand enough to be able to respond.

(He hopes they can understand enough to help)

He’s quietly relieved that Mathias is out of town for the night - when faced with situations like these, he had a tendency to absorb others’ stress, taking it in and then amplifying it outwards. He’d gotten better over the years, and it had taken many explosive, painful, painful arguments to get him to the point he was, but right now what Lukas needed was quiet. He needed a silent, simple understanding: a nothingness to allow for everything to be, and right now that wasn’t something Mathias could offer. In a way, Tino thinks Mathias could never offer that - Tino couldn’t offer that to Lukas, neither could Emil nor Peter nor Nils. But Berwald could: it was as simple as that.

Right now, Lukas needed Berwald - and that’s who he got.

 

“You’ve made a right mess of yourself, haven’t you.” Lukas doesn’t say anything, he just stares up at him tearfully, breathing ragged and uneven. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up-” Berwald reaches to help the other up, but he flinches: eyes fearful in an animalistic sort of way, making quiet noises - perhaps an attempt at words, mangled by tears and unhappiness. Sighing, Berwald crouches down to the others level - he’s pressed against the wall, knees curled to his chest and hands clawing at his legs, anxiously pulling at the fabric of his trousers. Lukas watches him mistrustfully as he reaches out slowly, slowly: gently taking his hands and holding them in his own, hushing Lukas’ wordless protest and simply picking him up. This was easier, after all, and it only takes a few moments before Lukas clings to him, gripping on to Berwald tightly as sobs begin racking his body all over again.

(It doesn’t take long and the sound of rushing water fills the silence: a quiet thank you is uttered his way before he leaves the other to it, settling down at the kitchen table where Tino hands him a cup of tea.)

“He hasn’t said anything yet, has he?” Tino asks, though he already knows the answer: he’s not surprised when Berwald shakes his head, quietly taking a sip of his tea. “I wonder what’s gotten him like this again-” Tino pauses to take a gulp of his own drink, tapping at the rim of his cup anxiously, “-It’s probably something to do with Emil: he’s been so stressed about it lately, so it’s really no wonder. Though that’s not to say it’s Emil’s fault of course, things aren’t exactly easy for him either-” Berwald nods in agreement, “I just wish everyone could just talk to one another, you know? Just put everything out on the table and sure it’ll probably be a mess and exhausting but at least then we’ll be able to keep an eye on everything. Then again, it’s not as if I want to disturb everyone’s privacy, I just think things would be easier if everything weren’t so vague. I don’t know. I’m rambling again, I’m sorry - thank you for helping out with Lukas just now, and for listening.” 

“It’s okay. ‘Nd I know what you mean, ‘s like that TV show.”

“You mean that one Mathias always watches? Yeah, yeah I know what you mean! There’s always so much going on and everyone has so many different issues and feelings but everything seems like it should be so easily resolved if the characters did just a few things differently, or at least that’s what it’s like when you’re watching.” He sighs, resting his head on the other’s shoulder, “Everything’s so much more complicated the moment you’re actually in the show.”

(The door cracks open and Lukas steps in, sitting down across from the other two and gratefully accepting the tea that Tino pours for him - in his favourite cup no less - along with a cup of water and some paracetamol from Berwald)

“I’m sorry-” he blurts out, voice croaky and rough, thick with the remainders of tears, “I shouldn’t have drank I-” he runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated, “I knew you were coming, I should have thought more about it - especially with the kids but I just-”

“Lukas.” Berwald interrupts him gently and Tino sends him a thankful look for cutting in,

“Lukas,” Tino repeats, “It’s okay. The kids were barely awake and I just told them that you weren’t feeling well - that’s enough for them at the moment.” Lukas opens his mouth to protest but he continues anyway, “If you were in a state in which you needed to drink to get out of it, then I don’t think you were in the right frame of mind to make a rational decision anyway.”

“Instinct.” Berwald adds.

“Exactly - instinct. We’ve spoken about this before: I don’t think any of us want to encourage, and certainly not enable it, but at the end of the day it’s a coping mechanism - your mind trying its hardest to find some way to function and get a grip. You know it’s not healthy and you know why it’s not healthy. You’ve been working so hard to relearn how to live in a way that’s safer - you’ve got to respect yourself enough to understand that things like this happen - relapses happen, that’s unfortunately just the way it is.” Lukas says nothing. “More importantly, what happened? I can’t imagine something like this would happen for no reason, would you be able to fill us in?”

(Lukas presses his lips together and grits his teeth)

“During therapy today, Emil he- He spoke about himself as if he didn’t care about himself. As if it didn’t matter what happened because he’s...not going to be around much longer. He spoke as if everything about him were already so temporary, as if it were already half-gone and I just-” He swallows, breathes, and continues, “I couldn’t take it and I got angry at him: I was so scared and I blew up at him like an idiot. I said such stupid, stupid things - it’s no wonder he hides all the time, every time we talk I say garbage like that-” He looks up to the ceiling, as if wanting to look through the walls to see him, “-I wouldn’t be surprised if he hated me.”

“I don’t think Emil could hate you even if he tried,” Tino refutes, smiling in to his cup as Berwald hums in agreement, “He doesn’t hate you Lukas, trust us on that. I don’t know if what you said was right, but I don’t know if what Emil said was fair either. You’re only human, you know? And the idea of him hurting like that tears you apart, I know, but of course that means the thought of that would scare you: him saying that would terrify you! You can’t blame yourself for feeling, Lukas, you’re only capable of so much.”

“I should be so much more for him.”

“You shouldn’t have to be anything for anyone-”

“That doesn’t help.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Tino smiles sadly, “But it’s true, no matter what your warped sense of responsibility makes you think.”

They sit in silence for a while, Berwald and Lukas engaging in some sort of wordless conversation through eye contact alone that Tino can make neither heads nor tail of. He knows neither of them meet it badly, but he can’t help but feel a little unwelcome when excluded like this.

“I think I’m going to go check on Emil,” he says, a little abruptly, getting up and heading to the door, “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

(The door shuts and they are left in a silence full of words:paragraphs and sentences stretching soundlessly throughout the room)


	27. A.F.S.L.G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know how much of a cop-out posting one of these is and GOD I feel bad for it. I've really wanted to make a proper update, really, but my family is currently preparing and renovating our house so that we can sell it and then move (which is exhausting on its own), then combined with writer's block in regards to ACSOL, keeping up my art, finishing my open university coursework and getting distracted by my mental health and personal writing I never got to it. 
> 
> So therefore have this instead, I'm quite pleased with it in itself, even if I have my concerns with posting it. I am forever bothered by the fact that AO3 doesn't allow me to use italics. Nonetheless, please interpret this however you wish.

A whirring highway of flyaway thought

 

(I have never heard anyone say the word “wonder”  
In quite the way it is supposed to feel  
The sensation of rising and falling  
Pale blue, pink and purple  
A milky dawn of something)

Inexplicable, really.  
The fact that words - our primary vessel for human conversation  
Are unable to translate such a feeling  
Into the minds of others

(Perhaps it is the tone of voice, in which it is said:  
The font, the medium, the size, the language…)

At the end of the day, each word is but a recycled patchwork  
Of letters, ciphers, symbols  
Nothing more than lines on a page  
Over  
And over

(Conceivably, the issue lies within intellectualization.  
The feeling comes with sensations  
A glimmering brightness  
Eyes filled with innocence and awe  
Swirling colours  
They cannot be contained.

Spilling out of glass jars in watery mists)

We try so hard to see through them.  
Putting together the pieces  
Of unfinished words, unwritten memoirs and unending journals  
Because perhaps the word will be different  
When seen through our own eyes

(Because maybe our eyes will never see the same  
No different than our perception of colour  
Your red could be my lilac, my blue, my beige  
You could see colours  
That I could never perceive)

Mismatched and pulled together   
Each spoken word and sentence  
Is but the prize  
Salvaged from 

(Somewhere  
In your mind  
Do you feel it?  
The synesthesia of your senses  
Brought about  
By sleepless nights

And the whirring highway of flyaway thought  
Within your skies)


	28. Tino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When making warm milk, make sure to put the honey in first: then mix in cinnamon and add the milk. Stir thoroughly and then heat up in your standard microwave or on the hob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates are late as always, but at least it's not just a poem and actual content instead. I'll respond to my inbox soon, I've been quite out of it lately so I'll be slow at responding I'm afraid.  
> I'm also very curious as to whether or not people can relate to Emil's thoughts in this chapter - does your mind work in similar ways? I want to know how it's interpreted and so on.

‘Hey Leon, can I sleep over tomorrow? I know it’s sudden but I really need to get away from home for a day. Stuff happened and I don’t wanna be here’

 

Emil reads over the text once more before sending it off, laying his phone aside and laying back down again, sighing. Of course something like this just had to happen on a Friday of all things - he had no desire to stay stuck in the house, stifled by his and his brother’s feelings for days. At least these days he had a way out, an escape from it all other than hiding away in his room. He hates how empathetic he is - if he were ignorant to it all he could be angry and sad and frustrated in peace, ignoring everyone else’s feelings and not care about who he hurts in his outbursts. Because that’s how it all started, after all, the realisation that his actions have an affect on people in both miniscule and major ways weighing heavy on him from the moment he could think. 

It makes sense, really, that something you say to someone will illicit feelings - responses, sensations - and not really a profound discovery at all: but he found himself filled with a fear that he might cause something to go horribly, horribly wrong. His own emotions had always been explosive - intense, long-lasting and overwhelming even in short bursts: any feeling, was already too much. And so he came to the conclusion that - if others could do so for him - he had the potential to set off mines within the minds of others. He’d always felt...different, though. As if his mind didn’t quite function the same way. Feelings, sounds, sensations and stimuli that were meaningless to others were unbearable to him. Socialising seemed so confusing: unwritten rules that nobody explained and everybody pretended weren’t there, covering them up with the advice of just ‘being yourself’ as if that was so easy. It was as if the world was governed through some immensely complex game, dictated by millions and millions of contextually applied regulations, winning and losing rewarded and punished respectively, and here he was - betting his life and happiness in a gamble in which no one ever explained the rules.

He felt ‘alien’. Different. Set apart. He tried over and over to understand, studying those around him and mimicking their behaviours till he came up with his very own programme, an A.I, if you will. Not a robot, of course, but rather a flowchart of prompts and responses: options and choices which he would choose according to tiny details - body language, tone of voice, weather, previous conversation - all logical actions compiled and picked based on critical, calculated study.

In his endeavours to be ‘human’ he had instead become a machine.

Because in this complex clockwork of conversation he refused, time and time again, to factor in the most critical element - himself. Because feeling was, and is, inconvenient. A nuisance, a plague that gets in the way of coexisting in the way that he is ‘supposed’ to. It has always been about purpose - about what he is meant to do, what people think of him and believe that he should do. How do you act like ‘yourself’ when you have never been? How do you act ‘natural’ when each and every one of your actions has been planned and synthetic from the very beginning? How do you get close to a person, or being one, when you have never been human before? How to break through this invisible wall?

There’s a knock on the door. Berwald? Maybe Tino - he doubts it’s Lukas.

“Emil?” It’s Tino after all, “Mind opening the door for me? My hands are full,” He gets up, reluctantly, unlocking and then opening the door, “Thanks.” Tino grins, pressing a cup of warm milk in to his hands: the creamy white slightly yellowish in hue, pinpricks of brown - honey and dashes of cinnamon.

“Do I have to talk to you now? About what happened?” he asks, retreating to his usual corner on his bed, huddled against the wall. Tino smiles again, not missing Emil’s suspicion - though it’s not unexpected. 

“Mm, you don’t have to - sure, I’d like to know what happened, especially since Lukas is basically out of commission right now - but I can wait.” He sits cross-legged on the ground beside the bed, preferring the feeling of the hardwood floor beneath his feet, “We can talk about something else if you’d prefer, no need for it to be heavy, doesn’t need to be anything. We don’t even need to talk if you like, but I am going to be here till I finish my tea, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me being here till then.” 

They both take a sip of their drinks, a quiet calm drifting between them: soft sounds from some online stream Emil had been listening to fading in and out of the background.

“Sometimes-” his voice is too low, and he has to clear his throat for a moment before he can try again, “-Sometimes I don’t think I’m really a person.” Tino says nothing, patiently listening out for him to continue - this is the sort of silence that he has learnt from Berwald and made his own. “I don’t think I...work like everyone else. I- I can’t know if that’s true or not, obviously - can’t exactly go inside someone else’s head but- I don’t know. I feel like everyone just knows so much more than me. Like they just ‘get’ how everything works and sure they get anxious and scared and worried probably just as much as I do but I feel like I’m so far apart from everyone.” 

(Downstairs, Lukas begins to play - violin singing out, accompanied by Berwald’s piano.)

(Emil turns off the stream)

“I don’t get how people work. How to talk to people and exist with them and just...be. I don’t get it. A-And I know I do it all the time but, it’s like I’m just functioning. I’m not ‘there’, I’m just going with what I’m meant to be doing. And I’ve been doing this for so long that I don’t know how to be myself - I-I don’t even know if that exists. From the moment I could think or do anything I just had to be and act the way people wanted me to be because I had to be good for- For what? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that the ‘original me’ wasn’t good enough: that I hated that me and locked them away - that I hate myself and- and it’s never not been this way.”

(They’ve stopped playing, and he can hear their footsteps, each returning to their own rooms to sleep)

“I’m just so tired of it all,” His phone lights up and he reaches for it, opening his messages - it’s Leon, ever the night owl - he’s allowed, he can escape. “There’s so much in my head all at the same time and I never know what words I’m supposed to pick because none of them fit completely and that’s so, so frustrating.” He responds with a quick thank-you and goodnight, shutting off his phone and putting it back down, “I just want to be understood.”

(He’s so tired)

“Tino?” he asks, sleep beginning to drag at his words.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay over at Leon’s tomorrow? I need to...just be away from here for a night.”

“Of course you can,” he says, softly - his own cup is empty now and he gets up, gently prying Emil’s from his hands, “I’ll drive you, too.” He pauses, stroking across Emil’s hair and his cheeks, “You should get some sleep, it’s late.”  
The other simply complies, barely awake as he retreats under the covers, barely whispering when he asks Tino to turn off the lights when he leaves.

“Good night Emil,” He’s surrounded by dark, and he can feel himself slipping from consciousness, “I love you, don’t forget that. We all do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're actually getting close to an end of sorts to ACSOL: there's quite a few things that still need to happen but...well, you'll see. I'm likely going to be deleting my Extraterrestrial fic as I'm nowhere near invested enough to finish it, even with the amount of prewritten content I have. ACSOL will continue as always, and even after it's 'done' there will still be an extended author's note of sorts as well as an afterstory collection of sorts so that it's a little more satisfying, as well as to show that it will never completely end - it can't in writing at least, as this is largely about me: and I won't be able to write my own ending, because I cannot write when I am dead.


	29. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation of great importance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked really hard to get this out so quickly because I'm honestly really frustrated with how long it has taken me to get to this plot point. I'm still really worried that I haven't pulled this off properly, that I've rushed it or that I've messed up the  
> pacing and mood within the chapter itself but at this point I'm just saying fuck it and finally posting it.
> 
> On that note, I'd really really appreciate some sort of feedback on this chapter. It's...important. A big change and something with a lot of implications that can be both positive and negative (more on that in future diary entries), I sincerely hope I managed to write this alright aha

Scuffling noises wake him up, tiny scratchy sounds against his door - Hanatamago. Sleepily, he sits up and shuffles over, cracking open the door and she slips in, a white, fluffy bundle of excitement. She yips happily, weaving in and out between his legs as he flops back on to his bed, and it only takes a few moments of stubbornness for her tiny legs to scramble up to join him. He sighs, tiredly - nowhere near awake enough to handle the ever excitable pup, scrunching up his face unhappily when she starts licking his face and jumping on him. Really, he'd love to sleep again, but he could already feel the hazy warmth of slumber fading,

"Hana-" he groans, apathetically pushing her away only for her to run back again - this time though he grabs her, holding her above him as her whole body wiggles - finally some attention!! "I love you, but please," He puts her down again, hugging her against his chest, frowning when she starts licking him again and barking in his face, "Why are you the way that you are-"

"Emil? Is Hanatamago in there with you?" Tino calls, peeking in.

"Yeah," Emil responds, voice still croaky, "Are you going on a walk with her or something?"

"No, it's fine - just wanted to check where she was. Good morning by the way! Or, uh, afternoon, I suppose. What time do you want me to drop you off at Leon's?"

Hastily, Emil checks his phone to check with Leon, who (thankfully) had already sent him a message,

"Uhh- Anytime after 2 he says. Is that okay?"

"Yeah that's perfect! I can take Hana and the kids out afterwards since the park is nearby too, you just let me know when you're ready okay?"

"I will. And uhm, thanks Tino."

"It's no problem! Don't forget to take your pills, I'm gonna go hang up the washing now so I'll be done soon."

Emil sits up as Tino leaves, quickly going through a mental checklist of things he'd need. He hadn't told him to bring anything specific, so just the usual clothes, pills, toothbrush, charger...Leon had more than enough spare blankets so there was no need for that at least. It doesn't take him long to pack it all in his rucksack, and only a little longer to get changed and ready; ignoring the mirror as much as possible - he doesn't have the mental energy to hate himself today.

He walks downstairs, looking around carefully: he'd like to avoid Lukas for today, if possible. Berwald is sat at the kitchen table, looking very "dad-like" with his newspaper and coffee, pointedly taking a sip and making vague noises of agreement as Peter sits across from him, blabbing on and on about something or another. He sends Emil a nod of good morning,

"He's still asleep." He says quietly, noticing the other's wariness.

"Oh," slightly embarrassed that he'd been so obvious about it, he resigns himself, hastily grabbing a piece of toast, "Thanks. I'll be, uh, heading out then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you." Berwald responds, nonplussed as usual, returning to his newspaper. Peter quickly jumps up, tugging at Emil's sleeves repeatedly, asking if they were leaving now. 

"Is Lars coming? Lars should just stay home, he just plays on his tablet anyway! And you know, he never ever ever lets me have a turn! I tell him that's not fair cause- cause sharing is caring! And then he just says he doesn't care!! Lars is super mean and-"

He can't help but feel incredibly relieved when Tino (laughing slightly at Emil's displeased face) comes back inside and gets Lars from upstairs, telling them to get their shoes on. It takes a few minutes of fiddling and nagging till they're all ready but they make it eventually, all bundled in to the car - Tino and Emil in the front with Lars, Peter and Hanatamago in the back. Soon after, they park in front of Leon's house, Emil saying quick goodbye's and I-love-you's as he gets out of the car, knocking on the door lightly. He can hear shouting inside: Yao yelling, presumably in Chinese, for someone to answer the door - he picks up on Yong Soo shouting back and hears rushed footsteps before Leon yells - also in Mandarin - as well as a dull thump, a noise he can only assume was Yong Soo being pushed in to a wall.

"Hey," the door finally opens, Leon stands there leaning against the wall, Mei peeking over his shoulder curiously, "Sorry it, like, took so long."

"It's okay," Emil smiles, a little awkwardly, trying to ignore Yong Soo and Mei, who were chattering to one another and eyeing him up and down.

"Oh nice you're, like, wearing the clothes I got you." Leon grins as he opens the door, sending Tino (who was waiting for Emil to get in safely before leaving) a wave before closing it behind them, "Way better than those hoodies and sweaters you keep wearing - no offense, I mean it's cute and all but that's just you I think, the hoodie's so-so."

Emil's face reddens a little - the things Leon had picked were the closest thing to a proper outfit he owned: he'd grown weirdly attached to it and wore it a lot more than he'd like to admit.

"Well, maybe I like my sweaters and hoodies," Leon laughs lightly and Emil smiles, "Not like I could pick something like this without help anyway - you're the one who knows about fashion, not me."

"Guess we'll just have to go clothes shopping more often then," They walk upstairs, Yao giving him a rushed greeting before rushing back in to the kitchen, "Devastating, I know - having to dress well and spend time with me." He adds sarcastically.

"Tragic," Emil agrees, laughing a little, "I'm appalled."

"It's called tough love, Emmy dearest," They go in to his room, sitting down on the usual beanbags, "I do this because I love you-" He coos, ruffling Emil's hair in an exaggerated manner before pausing, staring at him for a moment and running his fingers through it again. "...Your hair is soft."

"Oh," he blinks, looking around the room awkwardly as Leon pulls his hand away again, leaving them in sheepish silence.

"...D'you wanna watch a film?"

"Sure."

 

The afternoon passes comfortably: they'd taken it upon themselves to marathon Ghibli movies across various sleepovers and were making solid progress. A comfortably lax atmosphere had settled around them, both sprawled lazily across cushions and blankets, occasionally exchanging a few words during certain parts of the film. The awkwardness from before had passed, and as the tension he had from home - his argument with Lukas, therapy, himself - faded in to the background, Emil finally found himself able to breathe. He was safe here.

Sometime around 6, Kiku walks in to call them for dinner, seeming quietly pleased at their choice of films as he eyed the TV, then leaving again. Conveniently, the film finishes, the ending credits beginning to roll just as Leon goes to pause the DVD. Together, they both head downstairs to join the others at the table - Emil can't help but be amazed by the amount of effort Yao seems to put in to each meal, a massive variety of side dishes and mains, individual sauces and optional spices all presented neatly together. Seeing his amazement, Yong Soo 'whispers' (he didn't seem to be good at being quiet) to him that Yao put in at least 3 times more effort every time Emil came round - a comment that earned him a light snack across the head -

"I'm just proud of my cooking is all! What's wrong with wanting to show off culture to friends - not as if you bring anyone home-" Yong Soo winces at this, "And look at him! He's so skinny! You'd think his family doesn't feed him!" Sitting down, Yao begins piling food on to Emil's plate with a warm smile, "Here you go, eat as much as you like."

He thanks Yao quietly, a little overwhelmed - Leon sends him a sympathetic (and slightly embarrassed) smile before they all begin to eat.

 

Leon's home is...comfortable. Certainly, it's loud and he can't help but be a little anxious around his family but even so - he's happy to be here. 

(He's sinking in to the warmth again, melding with it and taking in its heat)

Afternoon melts in to evening, and the sky darkens: an amber glow of sunlight barely reaching across the horizon. By now, they've returned to Leon's room, switching from movies to video games instead - gradually working their way through some fantasy RPG that Leon stole from Kiku's cupboard. 

(It's sudden - catching him off guard - when he pauses the game)

(He sends Leon a questioning look)

"Do you...think about me a lot?"

"What?" Emil's tone is not cold, nor harsh; rather confused and uncertain, “What are you talking about?”

"Do you think about me?" Leon repeats, “Like on your way to school, or before, like, bed or whatever.”

"Why would you need to do know that?"

"Does there need to be a reason?" He asks, a little tired, solemn.

"No, but even so I'd like one," the other says quietly, hands fumbling with one another in his lap.

"Because it's something important to me, and so I'd like to know."

"Oh-" His eyes dart around the room, refusing to fix on any one spot, "Then I suppose yeah, I do."

"Do you love me?" Leon continues suddenly, leaning forward a little. 

For a moment, the air seems to fill with static - and then, tentatively, he responds,

(His heart pounds, and he feels as though he can feel the blood rushing through his body)

"...If I say yes?"

"Then I suppose we have one thing in common."

His sincerity throws him off, naturally: it’s not the first time that Leon has made implications ('You love me really-’), but never like this - he could never have expected things to be anything like this.

"You've fallen in love with yourself?" 

(He's not serious, of course, he's afraid of having to answer simply because it feels so important - no, because it is so important to him)

"You know what I mean."

"That's true, I'm sorry - that was unfair of me. And if I say no?" 

Momentary silence.

"Then I'd like to change the subject, please."

Silence again.

"And if I say nothing at all, what then?"

"Then we'll be in the exact same spot as before and this conversation will have been pointless."

"Would you give me some time?"

"As much as you need."

"I think I already know the answer-" Neither of them make a move: Leon anticipates, Emil ponders. "-But I think the answer isn't what I'm looking for: I'm looking for what to do with it. If I say yes, then we'll- we’ll-” His own words seem to catch in the back of his throat, and he stumbles for a while, “Then what? Where will we go from there? And if I say no, then- I believe that then you will be hurt. It feels arrogant to say something like that but-"

"It's not arrogant."

"-Then I was right," Emil swallows nervously, "And I can’t say nothing at all, because then all this will- well it won't do anything at all, it will do so much 'nothing' when it is so much of 'something', it feels like so much more than 'nothing' - it feels like- like everything, Leon."

(They both sit and think a while, looking for a way out of their dilemma - and yet their enigma refuses to unfold, too stubborn and steadfast to solve.)

"In a world in which you could say anything - and I mean anything at all, without fear - what would you answer with?"

"The truth."

"And that is?"

(His skin burns)

(He's shaking)

(He stumbles)

"Yes."


	30. The Workings of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third diary entry - or not, since he doesn’t have any paper. This is all in his head, and that’s where it will stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of semicolons in this chapter for things that could’ve been left unsaid and ended there, but continued anyway

It’s all out in the open now;

(He’s happy. So, so, stupidly, overwhelmingly happy. His mind is racing at the possibilities: his feelings are reciprocated - an idea he’d never even allowed himself to consider before. But it was real - tangible and there and undeniably the truth.) 

The world is dyed in amber.

(But he’s afraid, too. Scared of the consequences he’d believed to come into being - the end of their friendship, straying into uncomfortable middle ground that they would both come to regret.)

He regrets it already. He regrets opening his mouth at all and not avoiding this conversation - maybe he shouldn’t have come here today. He juxtaposes himself - he wishes that he didn’t, but he finds himself regretting not saying it sooner.

(He realises how close they’re sitting and he finds himself struggling to breathe again, his lips are dry and the fluttery feeling is surging in his chest again, pounding in his chest and making him feel like he’s going to explode)

So he curls himself together, legs half cross legged and half against his chest, arms wrapped around himself to cover his face.

“Em?” His voice seems lighter than usual, thinner, fainter - as if the air from his lungs had been stolen, “You okay there?”

He peeks out shyly, a little afraid to meet his eyes,

“I..Yeah,” he unravels a little more, opting to play with his hair, tugging at it lightly as his thoughts continued to race, “Just-” He laughs a little, so very clueless with what to do with himself, “I- I don’t even know.”

“Guess that makes two of us,” They both laugh a little, atmosphere lightening, even if catching one another’s eyes makes them feel like they’re looking into each other, in to depths neither of them were yet prepared to dive in to.

(They glance at one another’s depths a little longer, as if peering into their souls)

(They see beauty in one another)

(The irony, however, lies in the fact that the only thing inside their eyes, was the reflection of the other)

“Now what?” Emil asks, uncertainly - he doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t think Leon does either - then again, he’s never had a problem with being stuck in the unknown, as long as it was with someone else.

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t really..Plan this far ahead,” he seems embarrassed, as if ashamed of it, “Like, you’d think I’d have planned ahead but I- I sort of didn’t think we’d end up here.”

“I don’t think either of us really expected this,” Emil finishes for him, “Should we...Maybe just sleep? I don’t- I don’t want to say something stupid right now but I- I don’t want to just leave it either.”

“Sleep sounds good,” Leon agrees, tiredly, and they both get changed - soon the lights are off and they’re both in bed. It’s strange how far away he feels now - they’re technically both in the same bed, with Leon having pulled it out and placed an extra mattress on - but he can’t help but feel as if the other is far too out of reach.

“Am I-” Torn from his thoughts, Emil turns in Leon’s direction, “Is it okay if I touch you? No- Wait, that- Sorry. That sounded weird. I-”

“It’s okay,” he’s surprisingly firm, inexplicably okay with this, “I know what you mean.”

(There’s a moment of awkwardness as they shift blankets and pillows, shuffling closer to one another till they can feel one another’s breath. He can barely make out the other’s face in the dark, and almost doesn’t notice when Leon reaches over and loosely traces his face, gradually moving upwards and threading his fingers through his hair)

“I wanted to do this earlier,” he whispers, seeming oddly fascinated.

“Stroke..My hair?” Emil asks quietly, he can’t deny that this is nice, but a little confusing too.

“Yeah, that…too. Yeah.”

He’s about to ask what the ‘too’ implies when Leon cautiously moves closer still, pulling Emil into his chest. 

(The fluttering feeling is back again, and it takes him a while to remember how breathing works)  
Yet there's something so strangely comforting about being held, about sharing someone's warmth. 

(But he’s never had this sort of intimacy before, and so he’s lost within it)

But that’s okay

(Because he’s never had a problem with being stuck in the unknown, as long as it was with someone else.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuine question, I'm actually sort of unsure whether or not Emil and Leon should actually end up together. Might sound kind of weird considering that's sort of one of the main plot points to be resolved but.....I'm pretty indecisive. Should they start a relationship? Should they test the waters and tread carefully? Should they not try on account of Emil's mental health? What do you want?


	31. Gold and Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of....something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you past me for prewriting most of this chapter! This is the first time you've done something useful wow!!!!
> 
> I'm actually pleased with this honestly speaking so I hope you'll enjoy!

He's the first to wake up. He can feel Leon's shallow breath, face half buried in Emil's hair, and he's not sure if he even wants him to wake up. He likes this closeness after all - Leon's left arm beneath him, by his shoulders, his other arm curled around his waist. It's only when he finds himself becoming noticeably thirsty that the heat becomes near stifling, mouth uncomfortably dry. Reluctantly, he nudges at Leon, hoping to escape without having to wake him - to no avail.

"Leon..." He mumbles, trying to push his arm away, only for him to tighten his grip instead. Frowning, Emil pokes him again, "Leeeoonn-" he whines.

"Nn...What is it?" He grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"Let go of me for a sec, I need to get up and get a drink."

"....No you don't." He reasons unconvincingly.

"Yes I do Leon, now let go."

"Ughhh..Fine," he pouts, "Just hurry up 'nd like...get back quickly. It's cold." He frowns and makes a pained expression as he lets Emil go, quickly retreating in to the cocoon of blankets.

Emil sighs and rolls his eyes, awkwardly clambering out of bed and to the kitchen, pointedly avoiding Leon's family along the way. He takes a few moments to down the water, a little longer to catch his breath and then making his way back to Leon's room. The blankets rustle as he comes in, Leon peeking out from beneath the covers having heard the door open. Seeing Emil, he shuffles in to a more comfortable position, making room for the other to lie down again, gesturing to the space beside him pointedly. Awkwardly, he lays down again, squirming slightly as Leon's arms curl around him once more, face pressed against his and his hand threading through his hair.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Leon whispers, noticing the other's fidgeting.

(At this, Emil freezes up.)

"No, I just-" Now that he's a little more awake, he's much more conscious of the position he's in - the burning feeling is back again, boiling in his chest and across his skin, "-just embarassed.." He finishes, covering his face with his hand and turning away.

"Mm..Okay then," Leon hums and pulls him closer again, eyes falling shut again as sleep drags him down again.

Emil lies awake, mind already too active to be lulled back into the depths of rest. Even so he stays still, not feeling the need to move, nor wanting to. His comfort is only disrupted when Leon starts practically breathing by his ear - he'd always been sensitive there, and by his neck. He bears with it for a while, trying desperately to ignore the goosebumps across his skin that appear everytime the other exhales. He decides that enough is enough when Leon moves again, lips practically brushing against his neck and the edge of his jawline.

"Nope," he mumbles under his breath, edging away, "Not having this,"

The other groans sleepily, unhappy that his source of heat had decided to move away, unhappier still when he's stopped from moving closer again. Rubbing his eyes, Leon sits up, frowning down at Emil sleepily.

"You were breathing down my neck," he explains stubbornly, "You know I'm sensitive there."

The other furrows his brows, giving him a look as if to question why that should even matter before suddenly shifting himself to straddle the other, hands on either side of his shoulders. He studies the other silently, eyes half-lidded with sleep, yet intent all the same: shifting so he's resting on his elbows instead of his hands to bring them closer and threading his fingers through Emil's hair instead, tracing the lines of his face. It feels like eternity - even when Leon's fingers stray to trace his lips he can barely get himself to look away. 

"Your eyes are like...Really pretty, you know that?" He pushes Emil's fringe aside, grinning sleepily and laughing a little, "Your face is red...Cute,"

Instinctively, Emil lifts his arms to cover his face, making quietly indignant noises in protest.

"Emmy--" Leon frowns childishly and ruffles his hair, "Don't hide, let me see your face--"

Pouting, he moves his arms again, hesitating as he tries to figure out where to put his hands. The other notices, and pulls Emil's arms around him, so they're under Leon's arms and curl around his back and shoulders. 

"So," He watches, entertained, as Emil's face heats up a little more, fidgeting awkwardly at the close contact, "How does this make you feel?"

"You sound like my therapist," He says, a little reproachfully, avoiding eye contact as much as possible, "...But it's not terrible."

Leon hums thoughtfully,

"So you like it?"

"I didn't say that-"

"-You didn't not say that, either," Emil pointedly ignores his smug expression, staring pointedly at the wall, "So what's it gonna be?" Leon holds his face, gently moving it so that Emil is forced to look at him, "'Cause if you don't say that you hate it I'm not believing it."

He squirms beneath him, stopping and starting sentences that go nowhere:

"Well- Well, you know...I-" Leon smiles and gives him an encouraging look, "It's not like I hate it or anything."

"So I was right?"

"I- Uhm...If- If you already know then stop asking, geez!" He bursts out, flustered. 

"I'm sorry-" Leon laughs (Emil has to stop himself from freezing up because of it - he wasn't exactly the type to laugh so freely, so it was something special), "Don't hate me Em, you're just being, like, really, really cute right now."

He ignores the others protests at this, and they spend a while simply looking at eachother - Leon finding it particularly amusing when the other struggles with eye contact, flailing and fumbling when it goes on for too long.

"Hey Em?" 

"...Yeah?"

"Would you be okay if I kissed you?"

"Oh," He blinks, and swallows nervously, ignoring how dry his mouth has gotten all of a sudden, "Yeah, I'd be..I'd be okay with that."

(Time seems to slow, cliché as it might seem, he can't tear himself away)

A kiss: short, light - they open their eyes to meet one another - gold and violet connected for an instant. And then, time unpauses again, the two of them dissolving in to laughter that feels so indescribably freeing - Leon pressing kisses against his cheeks and forehead and nose and everywhere he can reach till Emil has to push him away, giggling with embarassment. He returns the kiss - just the one, that is - lips softly touching Leon's cheek before the other practically throws him over with a hug, the two of them laughing again till their faces hurt from smiling too much.

(Because 'now' feels so, so good)

(He wants to stay there forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to capture the awkwardness of first times with this - not to the extent of being cringey, but I think a lot of fanfiction treats 16 year olds a bit too much like all powerful experienced Casanova's, so that's something!
> 
> Genuinely though, where should Leon and Emil's relationship go? I'm inclined to give them a chance at trying, but I'm not one to let them have that so easily, I'm afraid. Leave thoughts below!!! I'll hopefully have the energy to respond to comments soon, my inbox is yelling at me...


	32. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Open-ended, unspoken questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat short chapter, especially considering how long I've been gone: apologies for that, I haven't been well and I'm still not well, but I have found motivation to write at least

They don't come to any conclusions that day.

They don't talk about what happened, satisfied - temporarily - with what they had; content to wait a little longer, be peaceful for a little more before they address one another. 

They eat breakfast instead, Leon using up the last of the eggs (much to Yong Soo's chagrin) and frying them together with bacon, and for now, all was well. 

By noon, Mathias is waiting outside Leon's house in the car, sending Emil a big grin when he sees him coming out. He waves goodbye to Leon a little shyly, somewhat reluctant to leave before opening the car door and sitting down in the front seat. 

"Icey! My boy! I've missed you so much!" Mathias throws his arms around Emil the moment he gets his seatbelt on, ruffling his hair and mock-crying.

"Mathias for the love of God," his face is pressed in to the other's chest and he can barely breathe with how tightly he's being held, "You were away for less than a week, stop being so dramatic!"

"Don't be so cold Emil!" He laughs loudly and looks at him fondly, finally letting the other go and revving up the engine, "Really though it's good to see you, I missed you kiddo - how was your sleepover?"

"It was- it was okay." He resigns himself again, chest warming a little as he remembers the night before, the feeling fading again when he remembers where Mathias had been the past few days, “How was Gilbert?”

“...Mm, yeah he’s alright. Got himself a bird since I last saw him, says having a friend around helps since Ludwig can’t be around too much these days,” There’s a moment of silence between them, Mathias’ smile having become pensive and melancholy, “Cute little thing really, making peeping noises everywhere, sits by his bed and stuff - Gil says he’s thinking of getting more, so he has, like, an army or something.” Emil laughs quietly, but doesn’t smile.

“..Have the doctors said anything new?” he finally asks, and Mathias sends him a sympathetic look before turning his eyes back to the road again.

“Well, the surgery went well apparently, which is...good. Grade 2 or 3 tumour, he said - I think - lower risk of it growing back. He’s gonna have to get chemo soon, though, they couldn’t get rid of it all.” Emil says nothing, and Mathias flounders a little, pressing his lips together, “They have to be careful, y’know,‘specially since it’s the brain and all. Did their best to get rid of as much of the bad stuff as possible, and now...we’ve just gotta hope chemo finishes the job.”

(The drive home seems so much longer than usual)

“He’s doing a lot better, y’know, better than last time at least-” He swallows, dryly, “It was horrible last time, could barely move. Shaving his head was- Was just sad. Any other time it would’ve been some dumb thing we’d get up to half-drunk, but- it just all felt so forced.” 

(Emil fumbles with the strap of his seatbelt)

“This time he- he was laughing ‘n stuff. I think not being in that shi- In that dingy hospital room helped, he’s white enough as it is, ‘n that place made him seem downright colourless.” 

(They reach home, and as Mathias pulls in to the driveway he smiles at Emil again)

“He’s gonna be okay, kiddo - it’s the ‘awesome and powerful Gilbert’, after all,” They both laugh, finally, breaking the melancholy air that hung around them, “Plus, you haven’t even met Gilbird yet, and we can’t have that!”

“He named the bird ‘Gilbird’?” Emil asks, raising his eyebrows (even if this was honestly par for the course, considering it was Gilbert).

“Yes, he did, and he’s very, very proud of himself for coming up with it.”

“Of course he is,” He sighs, and they both get out of the car, Mathias fiddling with the keys for a moment before unlocking the front door, “Thanks for picking me up, by the way.”

“No problem,” They take off their shoes and Emil’s just about to leave before Mathias calls out to him, “Hey, kiddo, before you disappear off in to your teenage angst hole - talk it out with Lukas at some point, okay? I don’t..I don’t really get everything that’s going on to be honest, you guys have always had a weird thing to me, anyway, but it’s a special sort of weird thing so...Just, take care of it, y’hear?”

(Quiet)

“I will, don’t worry,” He turns, and begins heading up the stairs, “Thanks, Dad.”

(He can’t see it, but he’s sure that Mathias is smiling again, eyes crinkling at the edges, telling of age that the childlike glimmer in his eyes refutes)

“No problem, son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, spontaneously added a completely new plot point out of nowhere, I didn't even get this idea till I tried to think of something for Mathias and Emil to talk about that wasn't Leon or Lukas, so uhhhh yep
> 
> Current plot/sub plots which are not very cohesive because I'm impulsive  
> -Leon and Emil's relationship as totally-not-boyfriends  
> -Matthew's identity issues  
> -Emil's mental health as a whole  
> -The Nordic family as people  
> -Lukas and Emil's argument and their emotional relationship overall  
> -Emil and therapy  
> -Leon's childhood and time in foster care  
> -Gilbert, who I haven't even mentioned before this chapter, having brain cancer  
> -Emil and Mathias being not blood-related but having a very close somewhat paternal bond


	33. Things

Hello, I apologise for not updating in so long

To put it bluntly, I'm struggling to find motivation to continue ACSOL, but don't want to simply discontinue it as I've put a huge amount in to this series

A lot of people have expressed that this fic is important to them, and I don't want to disappoint them

Therefore, I'm not sure whether I should simply wait it out and see if my motivation returns, or if I should work to cut ACSOL short - that is to say that I'd figure out the most important plot points to resolve and do so with a little less development and work, then end it roughly how I'd initially intended to

Regardless of how my motivation is, ACSOL was always going to be a weird series to "end" as its largely related to myself. Lately, however, I've felt incredibly disconnected from Emil both as a character and in relationship to me - this isn't the first time this has happened, but I don't want to just leave people waiting.

That's why I'm writing this.

As a reader, would you prefer that I wait it out (which potentially may not work properly, as I may never be as connected as I used to be) or should I try to cut it a little shorter, but guarantee that it would be more satisfying. Please comment below! I'm a little bit desperate aha


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